Delilah
by Omoni
Summary: Every week, Frisk upholds a promise to visit the Underground in exchange for added peace from one monster-not-monster. On the day before the eighth year of Frisk's fall, Frisk finally delves into the past - in order to cement the future. SPOILERS FOR THE TRUE PACIFIST RUN OF THE GAME. Part 5 of my "Abovetale" series.
1. Story

_Writer's Note: So Frisk is female in this version. In past versions of this series, I've kept true to the original and kept Frisk gender-neutral. This time, I've decided, due to her age and the nature of the story (which becomes clearer with time), Frisk is female in this version. However, that doesn't mean YOU have to read Frisk as female. (In the original version of Better Than Fanfiction, Frisk was female as well, but I changed it.) Forgive me, please x_x!_

 _Also, the title is a reference less to the Abrahamic Bible's story than it is to Florence and the Machine's song. You don't need to worry; this isn't a song-fic, though I may quote one or two lines as dialogue - but only due to being a giant nerd. The reason for naming it so will, again, be clear as you read on._

 **Chapter One: Story**

Frisk was growing up. It was inevitable, yes, but it was still sometimes easy to forget. Especially when her parents did not.

Toriel watched Frisk hunched over a large stack of papers, tongue out and eyes focussed, as she marked the work before her with quick hands and quicker eyes. Thanks to being not only tutored by Toriel and Alphys, but also her exposure to the local politics once the barrier broke, she had long ago finished basic education. Now, at eighteen, she worked as a teaching assistant part time for both Toriel and Alphys, the rest of the time spent with political matters. If she could, she also supply-teacher for subjects she knew rather well. She was very rarely without something to do.

It was late, and Frisk was lit by a single lamp at her desk, her dark hair tucked behind her ears and her bangs a little messy from being ruffled in thought. She wore loose clothes over her slightly-chubby frame, her legs covered in brightly patterned tights, her socked feet occasionally tapping to the music she listened to as she worked. Occasionally, she would pause and wiggle in her seat, dancing to the music with her eyes closed while she mouthed the words. Now was one of those times, and Toriel watched with shining eyes.

A large, gentle hand cupped Toriel's shoulder, and she leaned back at once, feeling Asgore's arms go around her. She sighed against him, relaxing, and Asgore gave her a whiskerey kiss on the cheek. In silence, they watched as their daughter finished her dance, then learn over and make a quick correction, before finally being able to shove the pile aside and stretch out, grinning happily.

Frisk checked her phone and jolted. _"Shoot!"_ she cried, hurriedly typing something on the small screen of the phone. Even now, at this age, Frisk rarely used curse words, even when alone, despite Undyne's constant attempts. She grabbed the phone and then her sweater that hung from the back of her chair, then stood up towards the front door.

Both of her parents jumped at the same time she did, and all three Dreemurrs blushed, though Frisk was grinning. She walked over and hugged them both at once, bringing a laugh from Toriel and an "oof" from Asgore.

"What's up, Goat Parents?" she wondered happily. She still had to look up to meet Asgore's gaze, but not so much for Toriel; they were almost the same height, now, and since Frisk seemed to have stopped growing, it always amazed Toriel that such a tiny child was now such a tall person.

Something deep hurt withing Toriel's chest at that thought, but she pushed it aside. "We're just checking up on you, dear," she replied, giving Frisk's cheek a gentle touch. "Going out now?"

"Yep. Already late, too, but I was on a roll!" said Frisk cheerfully.

"Oh, dear! What a waste of good bread!" Toriel couldn't help but say, smiling. Of course both Frisk and Asgore laughed; for them it was genuine, which was always nice. (Alphys was that way, too, but Undyne always used her fakest laughs whenever she joked that way - annoying.)

"Where are you going?" asked Asgore, eyeing outside the window warily. "Not too far?"

"Just Underground," Frisk answered, pulling on long, large boots - what they all commonly called her "Underground Boots".

Beside her, Asgore stiffened, looking uncomfortable, and Toriel bit her lip. This had been going on for quite some time, now; at the end of the week, Frisk would disappear Underground, though for what, no one knew; just that she did, and had been a few weeks following the barrier's destruction. As she grew up, her visits were more consistent, more regular, though she never, ever explained it - even when everyone had at least asked her once.

Frisk looked up at once, knowing her parents all to well by now. She smiled at their worried faces. "You both know that the Underground is safe! Sometimes even safer than here! What's wrong?"

"Well." Asgore looked at Toriel, who nodded. "Why the Underground, every week? Why not here, where we all belong, where your family is?"

Frisk's smile flickered, but she managed to keep it. How does one explain this without fully explaining it? How does one say that there were places, people, Underground that still had yet to come up and be free? That one, in particular, seemed to need her more Underground than anyone else on the surface?

"Well..." she said slowly, unable to keep hesitation from her voice. "Some monsters didn't come up, and some humans also went down. It's still my job to be ambassador, so I need to be one on both sides, right?" It was the truth, and she was glad it was, because she never, ever wanted to lie to her parents in a way to hurt them, ever.

Asgore looked instantly mollified, but Toriel eyed Frisk closely for a moment. When younger, this particular look always made Frisk blurt out anything she had withheld or was lying about. Though it wasn't easy, she did manage to keep it in this time.

She'd made a promise, after all, and she would keep it.

"Alright," Toriel said finally. "Come home before..." She looked at Asgore, who said, "Eleven." She nodded. "Yes, unless you're staying overnight. If so, text me and let me know, understand?"

"Of course!" Frisk leapt up and hugged Asgore, then Toriel. Toriel hugged her tight, then withdrew to hold Frisk's oddly bare face between her hands. With a tender smile, she kissed her daughter's forehead, who leaned in at once to accept it with closed eyes, before letting go.

When she was gone, Asgore narrowed his eyes. "She's lying." Toriel turned to him and saw his eyes were dark, though also sad. He slouched a bit and added. "Do you think she's... met someone? A mate?"

"No, not exactly," Toriel said kindly, smiling at his fatherly worry (though it would be remiss to leave out that she was actually more worried about that prospect than he.) "I think it's more like she's going to see someone she knows we won't approve of, but not a for a mate." Toriel paused, rubbing her chin. "She doesn't strike me as someone in love, and I've seen it enough in class to know."

Asgore nodded, though his eyes were still dark. "Someone we don't approve of, though, Tori?" he said slowly. "What kind of person does she think _we_ would never want to know she was friends with?"

Toriel leaned on him, slipping her arm around his waist, as they watched the faraway speck that was their daughter disappear into a checkpoint. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I know she'll tell us someday. If she's ready."

* * *

Frisk made her way through the Ruins; it was still closed off to everyone but its original inhabitants, at their request and also at Toriel's, all citing that the people were there to be private citizens and thus should not be disturbed. This also extended to Frisk, who not only as ambassador had assess to all of the Underground now, but was also considered one of those citizens thanks to Toriel - and the citizens themselves. She had memorised the puzzles long ago and drifted through them quickly, trying to make up for lost time, but of course one decided to give her some trouble, as usual.

"Pumpkin, I adore ya, but every time I see ya, ya make me _work."_

Frisk sighed from the other side of the wall of spikes blocking her. _"Please?_ I have Aboveground grass for you! And a surprise!"

A pause. Then the spikes retracted at once, and she leapt forward happily, kneeling to the monster rock and giving them a gentle pat, before adding a handful of sweet bluegrass - and oak leaves, the surprise.

"Oh, my buttered buns," the monster said. "I thankee, darlin'. Ya do make it worth while after all, dontcha?"

With a final pat, Frisk continued, whistling happily. Walking through the Ruins alone used to make her wistful, almost sad, seeing its neglected state and - she thought at the time - its even sadder and neglected residents. Now all she saw was a nice, quiet place, unsullied by human hands (she didn't considered her own human by now) and the home of some of the nicest monsters she had met in the Underground. Every time she visited, she regretted not coming more often, because all of them seemed to miss her - or her gifts, but she'd take that anyway.

When she got closer to her destination, memory washed over her, like it usually did - only this time she let it. She remembered the day she fell, and everyone she had met since. But most of all, she remembered _why_ she had fallen. And it was today - the Friday before the eighth anniversary of that fall - that she would finally explain why she had fallen to the one monster who always asked, every time he saw her.

She sat down on the bed of golden flowers, almost exactly where she had been found, and waited. She didn't have to wait long. A ring of bright white pellets slowly surrounded her, and she sighed, feeling a tug at her soul as her instincts reacted. With almost bored ease, she avoided them from where she say, knowing that no more would follow them - it was merely a greeting.

Flowey instantly popped up beside her, his face arranged annoyed despite his smile. "Howdy, Frisk!" he said rather tersely. "Guess who's late?"

"Me," she replied easily. "I had to grade some papers, Flowey."

"Hey, you're the idiot who made this promise," Flowey replied, his smile widening. "I don't care if you keep it. It's not like I can do anything about it, anyway, ever since _you_ came here. Why did you come here, again?"

There it was. She eyed him closely. "Right," she agreed carefully. They both knew he cared, but of course neither would admit it - his type of care wasn't something to brag about.

"So what's the story this week?" Flowey wondered, twining his body around her right arm slowly. "I see no book. Don't make one up, Frisk. We both you you're shit at it."

She laughed and easily shook him off of her arm. Part of the promise was the inclusion of an Aboveground story every Friday, in exchange for his remaining in the Underground. They had just finished "The Magic of Reality", which had actually delighted them both, but Flowey decided he wanted something more along the lines of fiction. Well, she had something for him, something that sounded like fiction, but not a book.

"I'm not going to make anything up. Do you know what day it is today?" She kept her gaze sharp as he thought about it.

"I hardly have a calendar around here, but obviously it's Friday, since _you're_ here. Or Friskday, as I like to call it, because I know you hate it." His smile twitched a little, though. He knew.

"Yes, but it's also eight years tomorrow that I came here. Since I met you," she finally said. She reached out, grabbed him by the stem, and gave him a pat on his polleny head - something he both hated and was good revenge for the "Friskday" joke. He never attacked her when she did this, however, and in face, the gesture on this day seemed to surprise him, as if not expecting her to do anything of the kind.

"Oh, golly, Flowey! You thought I _forgot?!"_ Frisk cried.

"Even if you _did,_ I don't _care!"_ he instantly snapped back.

"Well, I didn't, so if you want your darned story, shut up!" she sallied back easily enough, fluffing her bangs in her annoyance. "Even though it's not out of a book, I'm not making this one up, so it won't suck, okay?"

"I'll be the judge of that, Frisky Dreemurr. Or is the judge already here?" He made a mock look-around for sans, before grinning at her. However, once he had seen she was annoyed by the comment, he went into his usual position when listening to her read: a coiled up roll of a flower with his head at the top. It was his only indication that he would shut up - at least as long as he wasn't bored - so, Frisk took a deep breath, looked away, and told the story.

* * *

"If I catch you wandering there again, I'll push you in myself! You see if I don't!"

Frisk was practically thrown back into the house, feeling at once violated and afraid the moment her senses became aware of the place. Her foster mother had found her close to Mount Ebott again and had dragged her home - worried more about the loss of stipend than the actual child herself.

She could hear the other five of her supposed siblings and winced, lowering her head and silently making her way to her tiny bedroom, knowing better than to expect any food at this point. She threw herself onto her tiny cot - unchanged since her great-aunt had got sick and died, the one she had come with two years prior, despite her growing bigger. She wanted to cry, but felt too tired to even do so. She was so hungry, but knew that begging for food was just a waste of breath - and an increase of beatings.

She had been so close, _so close,_ to reaching the mountain's base, if only one of the neighbours hadn't called her stupid foster mother and told her that her money was walking away...

Frisk knew the legends, knew both facts and fictions, but she loved the folklore the most, the ones about monsters being sealed beneath Ebott until the day they would be freed by humans, who had sealed them there over a stupid war. Frisk knew _real_ monsters, and knew that anything down there would be immensely easier to deal with than here.

She'd been at the foster home for two whole years, and she wished she - or it - would die. Her parents had died in a hit-and run-when she was very small, leaving her in the care of her only living relative, Great-Aunt Maine, took her in as her own. It was from her that she had learnt all about Mount Ebott, and why she now was desperate to run to it.

Once, before she got sick and Frisk had to watch her die, Great Aunt Main spoke about her middle sister who had disappeared one day without a trace, a sister named Chara.

"Oh, she was a _terror,"_ Maine said with a nostalgic smile. "Ter and I were her best patsies, and she loved to bully others, loved to be in charge, loved to boss anyone and everyone around her. And she was so lovely and adorable, she always got away with it." Maine looked at Frisk kindly, and her smile widened. "You've a darker complexion, my dear, but you look very much like her. It's uncanny.'

"What happened to her?" Frisk wondered, her eyes huge on her small face.

"Oh, she disappeared," Maine said softly, giving Frisk's head a gentle pat. "Over the years, kids will always go missing. But now that I look back on it, I wonder if she meant to disappear, and was heading for the mountain."

"Mountain?" Frisk had seen it in the distance, its majesty like a giant snowglobe, full of strange angles and stranger lights.

"Yes, dear, Mount Ebott. I showed you, remember?" When Frisk nodded, Maine went on. "Every place has a fairy tale, and of course mountains are rich with them. Ebott's was special, though: monsters who had tried to take over the world were sealed instead in the bowels of that mountain, never to return. And how, if a human dared to enter, they would never come back." She placed a hand to her cheek. "Dearie me, so many stories we told about it! Yes, if Chara had wanted to disappear, that would be how she would do it."

"How can you know for sure?"

Maine paused, looking contemplative. "Oh, well, there were stories following her disappearance, several years after. By that time, my youngest brother had moved away, and my mother was getting sick and needed care, so I only heard the rumours, but..." She sighed. "There was a story that someone came back with Chara, late in the evening, and that Chara was dead, and that someone was a monster of some kind." She suddenly laughed. "How absurd. The only monsters there were the ones too high or drunk to even take care of their own kids!"

"What happened?" Frisk wondered, her eyes wider, feeling a chill around her neck and arms.

"Well, they said it was a monster who had come from the surface using Chara's soul to murder humanity. So they claimed they drove him off with any weapon they could find, and both the monster and Chara disappeared. This time for good."

Frisk was amazed, though also deeply disturbed by the story - especially when Maine was laughing about it. "That's terrible, especially if it was true!"

"Oh, Frisk, of course it wasn't true," Maine chastised gently. "People just wanted to make something into nothing, to keep our silly town a tourist attraction and what not. Using Chara was bad form, but I can see why they would want to make a tragedy into something beneficial." Maine paused again. "Besides, I know that where ever Chara is now, she's better off. She was never happy here. Maybe she found happiness elsewhere. Or maybe she simply found peace. I'll never know."

Now, lying on her bed, awash in dismay and hunger, Frisk found herself empathising with Chara's unhappiness. It was why Frisk had been trying to get close to Mount Ebott in the first place, to see if she could find her lost great-aunt and be adopted by her, by family, and be free of this hellhole...

 _Tonight._

Frisk's head jerked up, confused. She could have sworn she had just heard that, not as a thought, but in her ear, outside of her own head. She felt a chill along her neck and arms, her heart racing, and slowly, she sat up, listening so hard she shut her eyes.

Nothing; just the sounds of her hated prison. She lay back down, curled up into a ball, and tried to imagine herself far away...

She must have fallen asleep, because she next remembered a chill creeping up her spine, one that woke her. She opened her eyes to twilight, her tiny window showing a small square of darkening blue.

 _Tonight. Go_ _tonight. Right now._

It was that voice again, Frisk realised with another chill, her arms covered in gooseflesh. But, oddly, she wasn't afraid; rather, she felt anticipation, eagerness. Slowly, she got to her feet, pulled on her favourite sweater - one that had been her father's - and crept to the door, pressing her ear to it and listening. She could hear the sound of several TVs blaring, trying to drown each other out, but that was it. She slipped from her door as silently as possible, finding the hall, to her relief, empty.

 _Now! Go, Frisk!_

Heart racing now, Frisk fled down the hallway to the door, her steps quick but quiet. She grabbed her boots and shoved them on, before running out into the dying light, not once looking back, no once even listening for a reaction.

She was done with them.

 _Stay determined, Frisk!_

She nodded as she ran, her face set and her eyes blazing, not caring if she was going crazy from hearing voices, especially from taking the advice of a voice. How could anyone deal with what she did and _not_ go crazy from it? Besides, all she knew was that the voice was helping her, so of course she would listen to it.

Quite suddenly, as if on that thought, she tripped over an exposed root, landing hard on her hands and knees and cutting open a scratch on one of her shins. She stayed that way for a moment, the shock of pain knocking her breathless, before she shifted, sat down, and pulled out one of many bandages she always kept in her pockets - thanks to her "loving family". She bandaged it up, then, as an afterthought, found a stick big enough to serve as a walking staff, just in case. Once she felt ready, she pulled herself to her feet and went on.

As night crept up on her, so did Mount Ebott. It was huge, a towering giant of foreboding, and she found herself looking up at it the closer she got.

 _This way. There's a way in over here._

Frisk followed the tugging in her breast, which she took to mean the direction she had to go, and soon enough, as she walked, she saw a semi-hidden gash in the side of the mountain, one she had never seen - or even noticed - before. With her stick, she edged close to it, looking down below, but she couldn't see much - just dark blurs.

 _Now jump, Frisk._

The words made her stop in her tracks and lean back onto her stick. She knew _that_ was a bad thing to _ever_ think, and she dug the stick into the ground hard, along with her heels, in order to do exactly the opposite.

"Why?" she asked aloud. If she was crazy, fine, but she needed to get answers, regardless.

 _What else have you, Frisk?_

Frisk's lips trembled at that, sick reality crashing into her like a fist to the stomach. It was true; she really did have nothing. If she went back, she'd only be back in hell. if she jumped, she would likely die, but even so, well, at least she would be free. Wasn't that what Maine had said once?

Wordlessly, using the stick as a boost, she threw herself into the crevice, and down into the mountain. The moment she hit the empty air, she panicked, as if she could somehow backwards-jump, but it was too late - she was falling.

The last thing she saw was a young girl of about her age, very pretty, with a smile on her face and a hand held up and waving. Then, nothing.


	2. Ghosts

**Chapter Two: Ghosts**

"And, I woke up here," concluded Frisk. She wiped the tears from her eyes; the last time she had told that story, she had sobbed and sobbed, and sans had held her hand through it the entire time. Now, she knew, since her company was Flowey, the only comfort she could seek was from herself.

Flowey was staring at her from his coil, looking shocked. It was easy to guess why. Frisk smiled sadly at him, shrugging. "Now you know that I jumped. I wasn't pushed, and I didn't just fall. I heard Chara's voice, and I obeyed. I thought... heh." she hesitated. "I had hoped, actually, that the fall would kill me. But you, however intentional or not, saved me, Flowey."

Flowey slowly uncoiled himself and wrapped around her right arm again. This time, she let him, keeping eye contact with him the whole time, watching and waiting for his reaction.

"That story sucked," he said finally, "but not because it was you telling it."

"Oh?" Frisk raised an eyebrow. "Then why?"

He searched her face, almost carefully, before smiling his usual pitiless smile. "Because it was true."

"Yeah," she agreed, resting back on her left hand and looking up at the crevice that sealed her fate. "And the fact that the same twisted blood runs through me is even worse, huh?"

"Chara's blood? But Chara was fun," Flowey insisted. "She wasn't all bad, I think."

Frisk sighed a bit. "She tried to destroy humanity using _you,_ Flowey."

"Yeah, but it was still fun," he replied, his smile devious, now.

Frisk scowled at him. "I often wonder if you even know what fun _is,_ or even _means."_ She got back to her feet slowly, pulling her arm free from him rather abruptly. "I'm going home. You've had your story, whether you liked it or not." She was angry, her face, neck, and ears red from it, but she knew it was her own fault. She'd expected decency when there was none to be found. She'd expected care when only disdain existed, significance where nothing was sacred...

She really _was_ an idiot.

"Goodnight, Asriel," she said, as her usual way of leaving. She always said it, always, no matter how bad the visit. She wanted him to know she had never forgotten, that there was a reason she tortured herself every week for his sake. When she was about to leave the garden, she was tripped by vines covering her ankles and pulling her back. she landed hard on her hands and knees, then her legs gave out. She sighed deeply, keeping her hands still and her face set. She turned back and glowered at Flowey.

He was staring back at her, looking... weird. It took Frisk a while to understand why, at least completely, but to her he looked confused, which was weird. She propped herself up, untied her feet of the vines, then sat down, waiting. He only did that if he had something to add - usually crass or rude, but his expression changed her mind.

"Say it again...? he suddenly asked softly, looking angry and confused, now.

"Goodnight, Asriel," she repeated, using the exact same tone and inflection.

He visibly twitched. "Has it really almost been eight years?" he went on slowly. "Since you jumped?"

"Yes." She felt bittersweet, now, an ache in her heart. Her life had ended that day - only to start again, like a phoenix, only with flowers, not fire.

Their eyes met, and in another time, they were siblings, Chara and Asriel - the children of King Asgore and Queen Toriel Dreemurr - only to be destroyed by one selfish desire that Chara had refused to let go, and one that her loyal brother allowed himself to be dragged into, bringing him to his almost-innocent doom.

And just like that, Frisk began to cry again, only harder than before, silent, but with a few gulps and starts, the tears running down her cheeks. She'd never cried like that before, not since she made the mistake of almost doing so and having it used against her. She didn't look away from him, but she didn't stop her tears, either. She let them flow.

Flowey stared at her, his face crumpled in a sarcastic smile. "What do you expect to gain from that, Frisk?" he wondered. She shook her head angrily, not bothering to answer. That seemed to annoy him further. "Crying doesn't bring them back, you idiot. It won't bring Chara back, that's for sure, and it won't bring back Asriel - no matter how many times you call for him."

"Shut up," she snapped. She said it because she remembered, once, that he _had_ been able to stay Asriel, for a while after the barrier broke, and that was when she'd learnt the truth about her great-aunt; that she hadn't been a good person, and had perhaps loved, but not beyond using those people she loved - especially good people like the Dreemurrs - her _family,_ once.

"The truth always hurts you most, doesn't it, Frisk?" Flowey was saying, moving closer to in order to face her properly. "And I bet it was worse knowing _I don't even care!_ And I _don't_ care! Not about the past, who I was, or even about _you."_

For a moment, Frisk hated him. She hadn't felt that in years. She glowered furiously at him, her tears hot with that fury. Wordlessly, she got back to her feet and once again turned to leave - only to again be tripped by Flowey's vines. This time, she just lay there, refusing to move, because she knew that was exactly what he wanted - her reaction. She laid prone, and soon found his face in hers, still sarcastic, yes. but there was something else there, too. something she didn't understand.

"Frisk," he said, his voice practically dripping with his mockery. "You want Asriel, don't you? Have sought him out from within me in years, haven't you?"

Her eyes flared at him, wishing she could make him explode or something. Her hands were clenched so hard she was crushing the flowers beneath her. Because it was true, and they both knew it.

"He's dead, Frisk," Flowey went on, seeing the answer in her face. "Dead, and never coming back. Just like Chara. You chose not to reset, Frisk. You know you played a part in this. So, in a way, this is all _your_ doing."

"Shut up!" she growled, feeling sticky sap cover her fingers.

"You erased any save-points and let them all go. You let him open the barrier and then return as this. You did this. You got what you wanted - your happy ending - and yet here you are, daring to be unhappy! Why do you keep chasing ghosts, Frisk?"

 _"Because I couldn't save you, Asriel!"_ she burst out, pushing herself up onto her knees, her hands covered in sap. "I was able to save everyone but _you!"_

He had flinched again when she had said "Asriel", but the cruel smile only widened. "To save everyone else, you had to let Asriel go, Frisk."

Frisk punched the ground so hard, the skin of her knuckles split. "i know!" she shouted. _"I know that!"_

"Then accept reality, you _idiot!"_ Flowey snapped back. "It's been eight years and there is still no Asriel. He's dead, been dust longer than you've even been alive! Why do you continue to cry for a pile of dust, a corpse, someone long gone and with no knowledge or care of _you?!"_

Frisk raised her head, her eyes blazing with her determination. He stared back with his own, not a whit fazed by this - he never had been, no matter how hard she tried. Nothing ever worked on him. She _had_ tried, for so long, and she had never been able to break through to who he had once been.

Perhaps he was right after all. She was chasing a ridiculous dream, chasing a ghost. She had chased one to get here, and was chasing one even once free of here. How idiotic could one person be?

She got to her feet a third time. Not turning around, she muttered, "Goodbye, Flowey."

He let her go.

* * *

 _"Staying at Home. Gonna have leftover pie. Too tired to come home til tomorrow morning. Love you, Mama. Kisses to you and Papa."_

Frisk sent this text and then went right to Toriel's room, Instantly collapsing in the clean, welcoming bed as she did so. Toriel had hired one of the Woshuas to caretake Home's main building in her absence, and the place was definitely clean, and always stocked with both human and monster foods.

She had once invited Flowey on a whim to visit the house, but he flat-out refused, citing that he'd be a dead flower in a vase before that ever happened. Therefore, she knew she was safe in Home, probably the only place in the Ruins in which she was. She believed him even more, now.

Eight years, and she had foolishly let herself have hope for that long, willingly thought that she could somehow, in some way, reach to the part that was Asriel, that she knew was still in there somewhere. She had hoped for so long that maybe if she could prove to him that, in her, he _could_ have love, forgiveness, a sister...

A knock sounded at Toriel's door, and she looked up, confused for a moment, before she blinked again and smiled, using her sleeve to clean her face before she answered the knock.

"Who's there?"

"updog."

"Updog, who?"

"no, wait... i think i got that one wrong. dammit."

"Just come in, sans!" she laughed. "I already know it's you. Why do you even bother knocking?"

He let himself in and winked one socket at her. "for reactions like that," he replied, pulling out Chairiel and sitting down. she sat up and tuned to him, in order to look at him directly.

"so... you bleated the whole story to the weed, did you?" he wondered, his pinpoint eyes sharp, even though his words were not.

"I absolutely bleated," she agreed sadly. "Bleated and got no echo."

"ducks are the ones without echoes, though, aren't they?" sans wondered. "anyway, what did you expect, frisk?" He picked up one of Toriel's old joke books and flipped through it.

Frisk sighed, resting her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. "I dunno. I expected _something."_

"and?"

"And, _nothing_ , sans!" she said, exasperated. "You see what happened! I'm hiding in my mother's room!"

He looked up at her, pinpoints again meeting her gaze. Ever since she was little. she had always liked and trusted sans. How could she not, with the way she had met him? She trusted him, with her secrets and with her life.

"lotta good jokes in here," was sans's answer. "that's odd, even for tori. she only used a few of these on me."

"I know," Frisk nodded. "She tried them all on us first - Papa Gorey and I - and only chose the ones we laughed at to tell you. The one she used through the door with you was under that one."

He found it and flipped through it, then laughed harder. "oh yeah, i remember these!" He laughed again. "ah, tori. a classic. yodel. heheh."

Frisk watched him closely for a moment at that. For years, she had watched sans and her mother become the best of friends, like Undyne and Papyrus were, sometimes even rivaling them with their camaraderie and silliness. As such, one question always nagged at her, one that she'd never had the courage to ask, after all of these years.

Now, she found it.

"sans, do you love my mother?"

sans dropped the books at once, looking up so quickly his neck cracked. He struggled to keep his perpetual grin, but his eyes were obviously panicked. "kid, frisk, heh, who _doesn't_ love your mom?"

Frisk glared daggers at him, and he winced. "That is _not_ what I meant and you know it, sans."

"well... fine..." He turned towards the desk, keeping his face from her. "damn, kid, way to make a pleasant visit awkward." He paused, then sighed, his whole body sagging in the chair. "yeah, i love tori. i love her because she's got a killer laugh, a wicked wit, a loyal heart, and a brave soul."

"So, then, you are _in love_ with my mother?" pressed Frisk.

"in the way you keep trying to imply? nah. not for a long time. but yeah, i used to. a great deal." He paused. "but somehow, i realised, as a friend, tori was better. as a friend, i could be more to tori, too. so when i let that love go, i was happier. plus, the way she is with fluffybuns..." He turned back to her and rolled his eyes. "pretty gross. i don't want to get in the middle of _that_.'

Frisk eyed him closely, and he met her gaze. She could see it plainly: all he had just said was true. He _had_ been in love with Toriel, but had somehow let it go. Did anyone hold his soul, now? _Could anyone?_

"if you tell anyone, especially your father, i'll tell them what 'superbonk' means."

Frisk jolted in shock, going scarlet in horror. "I promise! I promise! It dies with me!"

sans nodded, satisfied by this. "so... _why_ did you tell the weed, frisk?"

Her posture was the one that deflated this time. "Tomorrow, everyone is going to be celebrating my arrival here like it's my birthday." She looked down at her hands. "It's kinda nice, because I don't really remember when my actual birthday is, but..." When sans waited, she added, "If they knew the truth, that I jumped, they'd just pity me and be sad. I don't want them to be sad."

"okay, but again, that's not what i asked you."

"Let me get to it, then," she said, annoyed at his annoyance. "Because I knew he wouldn't pity me, or be sad, I guess." She smiled crookedly. "I knew he wouldn't be all weird about it. Or... so I thought, but..." the smile vanished. "sans, I swear he _was_ weird at one point.'

"i know." She looked over at him, and he shrugged. "the judge comment he made caught my attention, so i hung around."

"If anything, that's a good thing," she admitted. "I have a witness. You did see it too, right? he _was_ weird, wasn't he?"

"yep."

Frisk sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "And yet, no matter how close I was, nothing can be done with it, can there?"

"trust me, and trust alphys: that thing cannot be reversed, no matter how determined you are. that technology was never meant to be used, and even less so on things without wills to live. the only way to free him is to kill him." He looked at her closely, now. "and you won't let me do that, will you?"

"No," she said quietly. "I won't."

"and that's because, somehow, you want to change him back to the prince, right?"

She didn't answer such an obvious question: of course that was the case.

"well, did it ever occur to you that the thing you've been calling asriel isn't actually him, but someone - something - else?" sans wondered, his voice casual.

Frisk felt a chill. "No, because he was the one I saw, the one who broke the barrier." She was angry at his doubting her. "It was him, sans! I've seen pictures of him. It was him."

"it _was_ ," sans agreed. "but what about now?"

Frisk punched the bed beneath her, her injured fist stinging. "Because he said it! 'Before I turn back into a flower... before I become soulless again.'"

"did it occur to you that you were just a kid, and that thing was playing on that?"

 _"He was in the garden!"_ Frisk suddenly exploded, getting to her feet. "Before we all left, he was there, in the garden, and he spoke to me, and told me all about Chara!"

sans looked up at her, his expression unchanged. "again, i ask, did it occur to you that you were a kid?"

Frisk was shaking, now. "Get out, sans," she snapped. "Just _get out."_

He did so, without a second glance, pausing only to grab the two joke books on his way out.

Frisk sat back down on Toriel's bed, trembling from head to toe, staring at the framed picture on the nightstand, gazing into the eyes she thought she remembered so well.

 _What if, indeed?_


	3. Mother

**Chapter Three: Mother**

Unexpectedly, Frisk woke to the smell of pie and the sight of fresh golden flowers upon the nightstand. Perhaps, after such an evening, seeing them would have upset her further. Instead, raised by the sight of those flowers, she could only associate them, within this place, with two people: her parents.

Frisk's eyes fell to the floor, and sure enough, there was a slice of Floor Pie. She'd called it that since she was a kid, because Toriel had the habit of baking late at night and then leaving Frisk a slice on the floor instead of waking her up to eat it. As such, Frisk not only got to use the pun, but also got more pie. She'd never stepped in one, and never would - though her father was always another story.

Smiling now, she slid to the floor and eyed the pie: butterscotch-cinnamon, sprinkled with rainbow confetti candy. Her eyes filled up and her smile widened, and she ate it slowly, relishing in the familiar tastes and texture, weeping as she did so. She couldn't explain why, just that she felt both comforted and haunted by the slice of Floor Pie all of a sudden - especially since it was still hot in the middle. One she finished, she got to her feet and went, with the plate and spoon, to see her mother.

Sometimes, when Frisk thought about Toriel, she wondered what it was like to be her. She'd had to not only accept the harsh reality of outliving her first two children, one of blood, but the fact that she again faced that same reality with Frisk. Once, when she was younger, she did ask, shocking Toriel.

"Mama-Tori, someone told me that... if you don't have another child, you're going to... outlive me? Is that true?" Frisk had been young enough for Toriel to kneel before her and hug her tightly to her. She hugged back a little, adding, "Even though you and Papa-Gorey are back together, I'll still outlive you?"

Toriel had stared above her head, unseen by Frisk, with full eyes, her fangs buried deep in her bottom lip to control her sudden pain. She wished desperately that Asgore was there with her, in order to help her make this easier, more cheerful, even. She always wanted to be honest with Frisk, to lead by example, but this question was... Needless to say, a trace difficult to answer.

"Yes, my child," Toriel said finally, once she had control of her voice again."But..." She had to make the decision to tell Frisk only part of the truth. "Maybe someday, Asgore and I will have another child. But not now. We will still likely outlive you, my dear. I'm... sorry."

Frisk had nodded, then suddenly burst into tears, something so unusual it shocked them both. _"I'm so glad!"_ she sobbed out. "I don't want you to die! _I don't want you to die!"_

And even now, she still didn't want them to die. All children bear the burden of burying their parents, but not Frisk. She felt that she'd already done that once - twice if you counted her Great-Aunt, which she did - and that was already too many times for her to deal with. She knew, without a doubt, that when they outlived her, she would be happy. Looking back, she supposed it was weird that she had reacted the way she had, especially since Toriel seemed surprised by it, too. But Frisk was tired of burying loved ones. If she could be spared burying her parents again, she would die happy.

These thoughts evaporated once she set foot in the living room and saw Toriel sitting there in her favourite chair, reading one of her many-read books over again. The moment she saw Frisk, she got to her feet and smiled happily, setting the book aside to hug Frisk, who did the same with the dishes.

"Good morning, my dear," Toriel said, her smile so bright it made Frisk smile back. "Did you like the pie?" When Frisk squeezed her into a harder hug, she laughed. "Good to... _oof_... know!"

"Mama, you _knew_ I was coming home this morning," said Frisk, trying to emulate Toriel's voice she used whenever chastising Frisk, but it didn't seem to work too well. "You didn't have to come all this way just to feed me pie. There were leftovers!"

Toriel's smile was warmer, now, proving that Frisk failed with attempts. Instead, she held Frisk's face in her hands for a moment and said, "My dear Frisk, stop being so silly. I chose to come here on my own. Let me have my choices."

Frisk nodded. "But I _am_ okay, Mama. You didn't need to."

"Hm, well..." Toriel let go and patted her back gently. She hadn't missed the sleepless look in her daughter's eyes, nor the the fact that she had clearly slept in her clothes from the night before. "Allow an old woman to fuss, then!"

Frisk laughed again, and Toriel felt better, even if that hadn't been the goal. "Where's Papa?" she asked now, curious.

Toriel smiled wider, the gesture now devious. "Oh, places," she said. "No place you need to worry about."

"Ugh, _no..."_ Frisk instantly knew where her father was at once: going to get snails from the Blook farm, and couldn't help but whine. She wasn't a very big fan of her parents' favourite protein, despite growing up with it. She found she preferred water sausages, thanks to sans - and her mother's own books.

"Don't you worry," Toriel said at once. "You'll have only your favourites today! Would you like to meet your father over in Waterfall, or wait for him, here?"

"Well..." Frisk shifted from foot to foot. "Could we wait? I'd like to talk to you alone for a bit, if it's okay."

Toriel nodded. "Of course. Shall I get more tea and pie?" When Frisk nodded, she left to make the tea. Frisk hesitated, then went to the bookshelf, where four framed pictures stood. Two were of her, one of Alphys and Undyne, and the last of the original four Dreemurrs. Frisk looked at the first two briefly - one of her and Asgore, the other of her about to catch a bug - as she'd not only seen them before, but had been in them, so they didn't really interest her.

The third was the newest, and hilarious, despite some... _censoring._ Toriel had a shutter-bug problem, one she had unwittingly passed to her husband. Out of hundreds of hundreds of digital photos taken that day - the wedding party - Toriel had chosen one of the most embarrassing ones to censor, print, frame, and display. In it stood Undyne in the front, looking as if she was in the middle of a really good yell, her hand up and her gesture blurred (one can imagine what her hand looked like easily enough), her other arm thrown out protectively over Alphys, who stood hiding behind her, looking sweaty and miserable - though her own arms were around Undyne's waist in a similar protective fashion. Both were brightly lit, thanks to both Asgore and Toriel flashing their shutters at once - and both looked ready to murder the photographers, Undyne looking off to the side at one, Alphys glowering at the other. Every time Frisk saw that one, she smiled - if not laughed - especially from the memories she had from that day. (When asked, Toriel admitted, "It's actually a really good picture of them together. It shows how much they both love each other, and how much passion they have - as well as strength. Plus, it's funny as hell!")

Finally, Frisk turned to the last, and picked it up with trembling fingers. It was old, faded with age, and it showed Toriel with Asriel and Asgore with Chara. Both children held bouquets of yellow flowers and laughed. Frisk always figured one of the castle's hands had taken the picture for them. Asriel was so small in the picture, smaller than the boy she'd seen eight years ago. But every time she saw him - and Chara - she bit her lip, feeling a tug at her heart and pain deep within her soul.

 _What if sans is right? What if Asriel isn't the one I've been talking to, but Chara? What if Asriel was finally put to rest that day, but Chara remained?_

Toriel walked in with the tray of tea and pie, noticing that Frisk was once more staring at that picture, looking as if she had known them. She did that every time she was here at Home, and it used to pain Toriel, seeing her Frisk stare with pain at the picture of her Asriel and, yes, her Chara. Over the years, Toriel had had to get used to that, though she didn't like it at all. She also didn't mention it, simply because Frisk didn't, either, and Toriel respected her privacy, and always had.

Now, she made the point of making noise when setting the tray down to alert Frisk - which worked; she carefully replaced the photo and went to join Toriel at the table, smiling a little. However, when sat down and took her tea, her eyes were distant, her smile small, fading slowly between sips of tea and bites of pie. Toriel watched her closely, sipping her own tea, wishing she could read her child's mind.

Frisk was trying to find the right words, her mind on Asriel, and Asriel alone. No words came, though, just piles of thoughts, painting her further into her corner of regret. She remembered what he had once asked her: _"Take care of Mom and Dad for me, will you?"_

 _Have I? Are they happy? Have I taken care of them? Or have I only hurt them? Maybe they have the right to know, have had that right all along... I'm just a coward, wanting to find Asriel in Flowey myself and bring him home, when I should have just told them the truth, when they should have been the first, the only people to know the truth? He was... is... their son, they have that right..._

 _Unless sans is right, and there's only Chara. But sans has been wrong before..._

Toriel watched as Frisk at and drank as though in a trance, her eyes searching the air before her for... something. Toriel wished she knew, wished Frisk would tell her what was wrong, what she was struggling with.

"Frisk," she said, "are you alright?"

Frisk jolted in her seat, her eyes wide. She swallowed hard and nodded, looking haunted, so much so that it pained Toriel. "Yeah, Mama," she said, smiling a little. "I'm okay. Just a lot on my mind, today being today and all."

"Anything I can help you bear? That you wish to tell me?"

Frisk swallowed again, looking - and feeling - hurt by that, because of course she couldn't - not yet, not until she was sure. "No, Mama," she said. "It's just silly stuff."

"I _highly doubt_ that," answered Toriel, sniffing at Frisk a little, offended to be dismissed in such a way. "But you can try again, my dear, and do be more witty this time, won't you?"

She couldn't help it; Frisk laughed. She could never lie to Toriel, ever; the monster seemed to either have the kind of ears that could tell from sounds, or a psychic power that rendered her able to sense them, but lies never worked on Toriel.

"It's something frustrating," admitted Frisk, "but I'm okay. I promise." Toriel eyed her closely, but Frisk merely raised her chin, having nothing to hide, and that satisfied them both.

"Alright, then. Shall we discuss the way you'd like to spend your day today?" Toriel wondered, smiling and hoping to change the mood. "Today _is_ a special day."

"Ma," sighed Frisk. "do I even have to say it?"

Toriel grinned. "You can say it, but I won't hear it," she replied. "I never have."

"Ma..." Frisk whined. "Please...? No party?"

"Sorry, my hands are tied, this time by your father," she giggled a bit at that, surprising Frisk. It always surprised her that Toriel could giggle like that, like a woman much younger than she was. Or was that the way to think of it? Toriel was old, but her body was not. _When had she stopped ageing? What was her real age? How old was she when she had had Asriel? When he had died?_

Luckily, Toriel's voice pulled her away from these thoughts - and thus the risk of voicing them - as she went on. "He said that this year was special, because you can legally vote. Of course you've been able to talk and influence the politicians already with who you are, and have been for years, but now that you can do it with paper, suddenly it's important to the old billy-goat."

Frisk smiled warmly. Of course Asgore would think a political milestone was important; though Toriel was the definite intellect of the two, Asgore had an odd penchant for the messed-up patchwork that was politics, something that only grew as his daughter's involvement increased with humans. He'd been an excellent mentor and mediator, and had always given her the best advice that she could ever ask for.

"Okay, okay," she said, giving in like always. There was always one reason or another why she absolutely had to have a party. Toriel looked so happy, and Frisk couldn't help cheering up at the sight. She loved Toriel, so deeply, more than she probably had ever loved her human mother, and more than anything always wanted her to be happy.

 _Have I taken care of them, like you asked me to? I don't know. But I think I do know someone who can tell me. And, even better, today._

As she and her mother talked over the party, Frisk's mind was already forming more plans for this one puzzle that she had never, ever solved.


	4. Souls

**Chapter Four: Souls  
**

"Howdy, bastard! Shouldn't you be at a party?

sans shrugged on shoulder easily enough. He stopped before Flowey, the two lit by the dying evening light. It was true that he was expected at the party for Frisk, but he wondered if the offer still stood after what he had said to her. It wouldn't stop him from showing up later, but he decided to be late, and planned this stop, first.

"hello, flowey," sans replied now. "shouldn't you be _dead?"_

Flowey grinned. "Yes, but only one thing keeps me alive."

"Frisk forbidding me from killing you?" sans supplied, raising a hand, winking one socket.

Flowey laughed derisively. _"That's_ your reason for not killing me? You've grown soft."

sans took another step forward slowly. As he did, his eyes lost their pinpoints, becoming empty, void sockets. His grin widened. "Then I have grown soft," he said, his voice felt more than heard, as opposite as his normal voice as anything could be. "Luckily for you, _Prince Asriel."_

* * *

"Can we talk for a bit?" Frisk asked Alphys, surprising her. It was at a lull in the party, thanks to Mettaton's karaoke singing - and dancing. Both Toriel and Asgore shared dark glares as they cleaned up burnt out speakers and cleaned up the mess he left behind, while Undyne yelled at Mettaton, who was also yelling back. A pretty normal lull, really.

Alphys and Papyrus were the only ones sitting normally, the two playing an intense round of Smash Brothers. When Papyrus won for the third time in a row, Alphys threw her controller and sulked. This was when Frisk decided to break in with her question.

"Sure, Frisk," Alphys said at once, getting to her feet and shooting Papyrus a dark look. "I was done, _anyway."_

Papyrus cackled at this. "NYEH-HEH-HEH-HEH! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE FINALLY BESTED THE PRESTIGIOUS DOCTOR ALPHYS AT SOMETHING!"

Alphys paused, then smiled deviously, turning back to him. "Papyrus?"

"YES?"

"C-U-O-F-F-K-F!" She spelt out triumphantly. Papyrus instantly reacted with panicked horror, rushing to find a pen and paper, and once he did, desperately scribbling down her letters in order to unscramble them at once.

Frisk blushed the moment she figured it out mentally, staring at Alphys with a mix of shock and admiration. Even if he managed to unscramble it without her help, Alphys still won.

"That should keep him busy," Alphys said with a grin. She looked back at Frisk. "Backyard?" When Frisk nodded, the two headed to the back of New New Home (yes, Asgore had named their house.), the dusk light like a grey cloud of foreboding for her.

Once they were outside and settled on the grass, Alphys turned to her and said, "Everything okay?"

Frisk took a breath, then blurted it out. "Alphys, is there a way to kill Flowey without killing Asriel?"

Alphys stared at her, starting to tremble and sweat at the same time. Her face paled and her hands instantly clenched together before her. "I-I-I'm sorry..." she manged. "W-what?"

* * *

Flowey's laugh was hysterical, high pitched and full of mockery. Sans stayed still, his empty eyes giving out nothing. He kept silent, waiting for a better answer. Eventually, he did get one.

"Is that what you truly think?! You fool! _You IDIOT!"_

Sans tilted his head slowly to one side. "That is neither yes or no," he observed.

"Don't you think that if I were, I would be _this?"_ Flowey laughed again. "Would it make you feel better, believing that, rather than admitting how weak you've gotten?"

Sans shrugged. "No one likes to admit weakness, but that is not the main reason."

"Well, tough shit, judge," Flowey spat. "You know better. I pity your friends, if that's how stupid you've become with peace."

"And you honestly believe that Frisk has had peace these eight years?" Sans answered.

"Do you really think I care?"

"Yes," Sans replied slowly, his voice a blood-chilling rumble, now. "I do, very much so. And I would like you to stop, now."

* * *

 _"How...?"_ Alphys wondered, her eyes searching Frisk's. "H-how d-did you...?"

"You _know_ I read your reports, Alphys, in the True Lab," Frisk answered, trying to be patient, but sounding terse, instead. She had waited all day to ask this, and now she was being deflected. She hated how Alphys's face looked, a mix of shame and regret, of painful panic. "Including the ones about Flowey, the 'vessel' you created for my father, as a surprise for him."

Alphys stared at her. She was outright shaking, now. "I-I... I..." she stammered.

This frustrated Frisk, though she didn't know why. "You wrote about how you wanted to surprise him with the first flower grown in the garden from the outside world, where Asriel and Chara died. I need to know: is Flowey Chara, and if not, can we find a way to bring Asriel back somehow?"

Something clicked in Alphys's eyes. "The flash of white..." she muttered. "Something _did_ happen. I-I had thought... I h-had been afraid-,"

"Alphys, answer me, dammit!" Frisk snapped, shocking Alphys into shrinking away from her. "Is it possible? _Is he Chara?"_

"I-I don't know!" Alphys admitted. "I-I don't know all of what you're s-saying! Ch-Chara... you mean Asgore's d-daughter?"

Frisk sighed, then shut her eyes. Without pause, she told Alphys everything that had happened in that flash of light - and time.

* * *

"You _idiot,"_ snarled Flowey. "I don't care about anyone but myself, and you know it, judge. Kill or be killed. You know that!"

"You like to lie, do you not? You do it very often, especially to Frisk. I am surprised you have managed to keep it going for so long."

"Still think I'm Asriel, do you?"

Sans nodded slowly. "Yes. Enough with the lies. We both know the truth. Stop pretending and tell me why you are still doing..." He raised his hand, and something flashed in his left eye socket. _"...this."_ He waved his hand over Flowey from top to bottom.

"Sorry, bastard, but _this_ is who I _am,_ " Flowey laughed in reply.

"No. It is not. And never has been. Stop lying."

* * *

Alphys was holding one of Frisk's hands between her own now, as Frisk finished her story up to the previous night. Alphys was still shaking, but concern for Frisk showed more than anything else.

"Oh, Frisk, I-I'm s-so s-sorry," she murmured now, her voice choked and her eyes hidden behind fogged lenses. "I-it's all _my_ fault..."

Frisk shook her head, no longer angry. Instead, she felt sad, tired of being sad. "No. There were a lot of mistakes with good intentions. I know you meant well. But... are you able to answer, now?"

Alphys thought for a while, and Frisk waited, watching the lenses of Alphys's glasses clear and her eyes dart from side to side with each thought. Then they widened. "Yes! I can!" She sounded surprised by this.

"You can? Which one?"

"Both!" Alphys said at once, her voice speeding up as she went on. "There's no way Flowey is Chara. Chara was human and had no magic, no soul left, neither of them, once Asriel died. No, Chara is dead, or a ghost somewhere, if anything..." Her eyes fell on Frisk's shocked expression, and she blushed. "I-I-I'm sorry. Th-that was... rather c-cold of me."

Frisk shook her head. She was relieved more than anything else. "It's not that, but please, go on."

Alphys did so. "Asriel, though... _th-that's_ another story completely. His dust spread on the garden, giving life to the flowers he brought back with his dead sister. At least, that's what my predecessor thought. They spread his ashes - your parents, sorry - on his toys, his favourite things, and so on. But that dust in he garden spread on those flowers while he and the flowers both still had his and Chara's last bits of soul... a different kind of - well, I suppose calling it 'danger' is the only word to use after what he has done - happened that night. The flowers soaked up the life force, began to grow. When I thought about a vessel for DT, I wanted to... please Asgore, really, and chose the first flower that bloomed in the garden. When I injected it..."

"Flowey," Frisk said, her eyes now as wide as Alphys's.

"Y-yes. He had no soul, but he knew who he was, I-I think... No... wait, what if...?" Her eyes looked troubled. "Wait... it was almost like..." She suddenly went rigid, them trembled like a dying leaf on a branch. "Oh, no. Oh, no, _no, no, no!_ Almost like-!"

"Like what, Alphys? Tell me!"

* * *

Flowey glared hatred at Sans, who stared back. "Idiot bastard," he snarled again, but his voice faltered slightly.

"Who is the bigger bastard, the bigger idiot?" Sans wondered calmly. "The liar, or the judge? The prince, or the jester?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"More lying, Prince Liar. Please, do be honest."

Flowey sneered at him. "The soulless need no honesty."

Sans grinned at Flowey, now, another flash sparking in his left socket in the darkening night. "Ah, but we both know you're not soulless, Prince Asriel. And you _never were."_

* * *

Alphys turned to Frisk, dragging herself then Frisk to their feet. "I-I'm such a-a... _Frisk!_ W-we ne-need to..." She pulled on Frisk's arm, looking panicked. "W-we _have_ to-,"

"Slow down, Alphys," Frisk broke in gently, stopping her pulling with her other hand, though her heart was racing. "Slow down, and go a thought at a time."

"W-we need to find h-him, I-I can't believe it..." She was pale, now, her hands shaking so hard they also shook Frisk's, but her eyes were blazing. "I-I'm such a _loser,_ F-Frisk!" Her eyes searched Frisk's. "Y-yes, th-there's a way, b-but we need to f-find him and go to the True Lab. I-I didn't _think_... I-I never _imagined_... If I _had_ , this wouldn't of h-happened...!"

"Again, slow down, Alphys. What didn't you know?"

Alphys's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "He... h-he has a soul, F-Frisk. H-he _always_ had one. I-I did a t-terrible th-thing! Wh-why did I... Why _d-didn't_ I...?"

Frisk went cold. "He... has a soul?!"

"Y-yes. Ever since I-I injected him w-with... determination..."

* * *

"A soul? _Please,"_ Flowey snorted, laughing again. "You know all the things I've done, judge, don't you? You know anyone with a soul would never do those things!"

Sans shook his head. "We both know that anyone with a soul can also be cruel. But again, I say, you are not soulless, and never have been. No matter what you _did_ , Frisk used her power to erase it all." He paused. "You waited a long time for someone like her to overthrow your power. It must have been painful for you."

Flowey was silent, his smile ugly, now. "Shut up," he said carefully, his anger so thorough he trembled.

Sans only smiled. "Especially since she's practically Chara. Isn't she? That hurts, too, doesn't it? Seeing a version of Chara that is actually _good?"_

 _"Shut up!"_ Flowey screamed, suddenly surrounded by three rows of his magic bullets.

"And why do you want me to do that?" Sans wondered idly. "Because I am wrong?" His voice practically shook the ground beneath him, it was so deep. As the light darkened, the fire in his eye slowly lit up. "Or because I'm perfectly right?"

 _"I will kill you, judge,"_ Flowey warned, his entire face becoming hideous in his rage. "I will make it _slow,_ and _painful,_ and in a way that will make you _wish_ Chara had killed you."

"If I remember correctly, Chara killed _you_." Sans answered calmly.

"Well, she's dead now, isn't she? So who cares about that, or her?"

"Or Frisk?"

 _"Or Frisk!"_ Flowey agreed, laughing his high-pitched laugh at him. "Or _you!_ Or _anyone!_ I could kill you _all_ and you would never see it coming! Hell, we both know I have already!" The bullets slowly began to spin around him as he spoke. "Why not start with _you,_ judge?"

"Because you know you cannot kill me. Not and be able to keep her. Just like I will not kill you to put you out of your misery. For her. So stop lying. It is tiresome."

 _"I WILL kill you!"_ Flowey snarled. _"Go away, or die!"_

Sans didn't move. He simply put his hands in his pockets, his eye's flame getting brighter the faster those bullets spun.

 _"I mean it! Leave or die!"_

Sans suddenly smiled. It was a sad smile. "You sound so like your mother when you say that."

* * *

"Please move, please move _, please move!"_ Frisk shouted, her voice breaking. "I don't have anything for you, but we need to get by!"

A pause. Then, "We?"

"Yes. I-I'm here," Alphys spoke up, trying to peer over the spikes.

They instantly vanished. "Wow. Another celebrity, here in _my_ puzzle!" the rock gushed. "What a week this is!"

Frisk stopped. "What did you say?!" she demanded. "Who was here?! Who _else_ was here?"

Alphys was already running. She knew the way already, having monitored several of the puzzles within.

"Why, that kind skeleton gentleman, the one with the pinpoint eyes."

Frisk was already running after Alphys, the moment he said "skeleton".

* * *

"I don't _have_ a mother," Flowey snarled.

"Oh? Then why do you remain in her former domain?"

"Shut _up!_ Or I'll kill you _right where you stand!"_ Flowey laughed, hysterical again, but for real. "Sound familiar, judge?! _Gonna have a bad time, judge?!"_

Sans stared at him in silence.

"What, no snappy comeback, no witty pun?" Flowey wondered, his smile twitching. "No ridiculous deflection, no attempt to pretend things are fine?!"

"Are they?" Sans wondered, his eye now a brilliant flame of blue and orange, orange and blue.

"They _won't_ be if you don't _leave!"_ Flowey answered. With a sneer, he threw several of his bullets towards Sans, but he didn't move, and they landed harmlessly around him - just as they were meant to.

 _"That_ is the best you can do?" Sans wondered, slowly flexing his left hand.

"They were _warnings_ , bastard!" Flowey answered, though something had changed in his voice, now, something deep in the depths of it. "If you so much as scratch your ass with that hand, I _will_ kill you!"

Sans smiled wider suddenly. But still he said nothing. Flowey suddenly reared up, his face an ugly mess of hatred and... something else. Sans slowly raised his left hand in reply - only not to scratch.

And that was when a stick landed between them, startling Flowey but only making Sans blink. "Stop, Sans!" Frisk shouted, running up to his side. _"Stop! You promised!"_

"I did," he agreed.

"Then lower your hand, Sans!" Frisk shouted.

He didn't even look at her. Instead, he raised it, kept his gaze on Flowey, and pointed at Frisk. With a chill, she felt that familiar tug within her heart, and instinct flooded through her, urging her to respond.

"S-Sans, wait! _D-don't-!"_ Alphys tried to break in, but she was cut off.

"No!" Flowey suddenly shouted, in a strange, unfamiliar voice. _"No!_ Stop! _Stop! You win!"_

But it was too late.


	5. Kill

**Chapter Five: Kill**

The shields went up in a flash, even as both Alphys and Flowey tried to jump in, to prevent it from closing, Alphys with her staffs and Flowey with his bullets. But despite both of them being determined, the shields didn't even spark.

* * *

Frisk felt the tug at her heart and her instincts take over, meeting Sans's gaze as she did so. His eye burned, like a wild bushfire, and his smile was grim. He still pointed at her, now right at her exposed soul, its red glow seeming dim compared to the twin lights in his eye.

"The birds are not singing. The sun is not shining. Humans like you, Frisk, should be at home with family, not here dancing with danger," said Sans, his voice low and shaking her to the very core.

"You _promised_ ," she answered.

"And I have kept - and will remain keeping - it. I will not kill the weed."

"Then why are we here, now, fighting each other?"

Sans shook his head slowly. "To kill _you."_

Her blood turned to ice, and he attacked.

* * *

 _"You!"_ Alphys shouted, turning from the shields to face Flowey, the spear she held blazing between her hands. Flowey glared at her, but shrank back, his eyes darting from the shields to her weapon. She moved it as close as she dared without touching him, her anger making it shake unsteadily. "What have you _done?! Why_ have you done this, all of this?! Why didn't you ever tell me?!"

Flowey's eyes flared at once, and in his normal voice, he said, "You. The doctor. It's actually _you_ _."_ He smiled slowly, showing all of his teeth. _"I loathe you."_

"You can do whatever you want," snapped Alphys, her eyes blazing as bright as her staff. "But before you do, you owe me an explanation. Why, in all conceivable hells, is _Sans_ fighting _Frisk?!"_

"Because she won't let me die," he snapped back.

Her eyes narrowed slowly. "Start making sense, or I promise you, you _will_."

* * *

Quite suddenly, Frisk was fighting for her life, something she hadn't done in years. Weekly mini-fights with Flowey had kept her reflexes sharp, but her attack was too weak, too low on LV to be of any good. All she could do was defend.

His attacks were strange. She could tell he was holding a great deal back, and even then she still had trouble. By the time his first attack was done, she was almost out of breath, stung in several places and beading blood in others, but otherwise fine.

Frisk met Sans's gaze again, seeing no trace of her friend in that alien, lopsided stare. She narrowed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and ground her heels into the ground. Slowly, she shook her head.

"You really are not going to fight?" wondered Sans, his voice so menacing it hurt - and not just physically, either. "Knowing what it means if you do not?"

"Yes," she answered between her teeth. "But I think I should know why I'm being _murdered_ today." Her hands shook, and she clenched them at her sides. "You owe me that much, Sans."

"True. But I never promised anything about killing or not killing you; just in regards to the weed."

"But tell me _why_ I have to die!"

"If you can survive this next attack," he said carefully, "I will tell you why I am doing so, before I kill you."

His hand went up, and her soul was pulled with it.

* * *

"Yes, let's pitch camp by the shields of a battle and talk about the past, doctor!" Flowey sneered. "What's next, you gonna tell me I need to come home with you, too? Be a good little plant?"

At that, Alphys almost hit him with her staff, she was so angry. However, she was smiling, which really just revealed how furious she was, as it was the smile she wore when about to fight back. "The circumstances are bad," she agreed tersely, "but unless you give me answers, nothing will change. Start talking. _Now!"_

"I'll kill you first, weakling," was his reply, his voice dipped in mockery. "Too bad your wife isn't here, huh? No one will be able to rescue you from your own death, or even _care_ about it."

"T-try it," she volleyed back, her anger making her voice shake. "I would love any excuse to do some _gardening."_

* * *

Frisk was down, but nowhere near out. Her soul, though weak now, was still shining with its strong red glow, reflecting off of her eyes like embers of a dying light. She was on her hands and knees, gasping for breath, but refusing to look away, her gazed locked on Sans's. Something flickered in that eye when he finally met her gaze directly - and suddenly, the fires vanished, snuffed out at once, replaced by his normal pinpoints. His hand, however, was still raised and pointed at her, though now it shook a little. His face changed, too, from almost menacing to almost-normal, save that his smile kept slipping into a grimace.

"I survived," she spat out. Her heart was racing and she could hear her blood rushing in her ears, but she was still alive. Still determined. "Why are you killing me, sans?"

"why?" he echoed in his normal voice. "because you wouldn't let me kill _him_ , and i'm sick of seeing you - both of you - hurt."

"So instead of _helping_ either of us," said Frisk, her voice wavering now, angry. "For you, it's _kill or be killed."_

The words caused a brief silence between them, before sans said, rather wistfully, "isn't it better to die by a friend's hand than an enemy's?"

"You're _not_ my enemy?" Frisk answered sharply, trying to smile but failing. "I beg to differ, sans." Again, she pushed herself to her feet, slower this time, and again, she met his gaze - and refused to fight.

sans winced, either from her words or her actions. Maybe both. "you know he's been lying to you for years, frisk. he's been lying to everyone, been horrible to everyone, even his - _your_ \- parents."

"I do know," she said. "I came here to convince him to come with me to Alphys's True Lab, to see if we can do something, now that I know - and now that he knows we know, too."

"you think that will really work, kiddo?" he wondered. "bringing him back somehow? especially the way he is, trapped that way? you think that'll bring joy to anyone? to him? to your parents? to _you?"_

Frisk bit her lip, the questions confusing her, before she blurted out, "I have to _try!_ I can't just know and do nothing! I just..." She looked at him, searching his eyes desperately. "I just want _peace,_ sans. Please, can't we stop this? Can't you just _help_ me?!"

"dammit, frisk," he answered softly. "you know that anything but peace will come from revealing something like this. do you really think your parents deserve that pain?"

"They deserve their son back, however he may be - or may not be. It'll hurt, but it's better to have him than not, to know than to be lied to forever."

"and you think he deserves a gift like that?"

Frisk's eyes burned, and she nodded. "I think it's been long overdue."

"then you deserve to die." He shook his head, and at once his left eye engulfed his socket. "I am sorry."

And once again, she was fighting for her life.

* * *

Alphys surprised Flowey, just like she knew she would, when she managed to avoid his myriad bullets, managing to deflect several of them with her staff. When, despite her fury, she chose to spare him, he laughed at her, the sound sharp and grating.

 _"You idiot!"_ he giggled. "You really just said all of that with a straight face, and yet here you are, not even trying?!" He laughed again, even when her eyes narrowed and her own smile increased. "What is wrong with you, you depraved mad scientist?!" He laughed a third time, only this one was hysterical - and not that way on purpose.

When three circles of white pellets appeared over his head, she watched them carefully, her smile widening so much her face hurt. Holding her staff tighter, she know knew exactly what to do.

At least until she could reach Frisk.

 _If._

* * *

A third time, Frisk was down but not out, though it took her even longer to recover this time. Sans stood watching, visibly sweating from his efforts but his eye still blazing as bright as when he had begun. Frisk had to blink hard several times to regain her focus, and when she did, she tried to get back up.

"You know you are doomed, now, no matter how determined you may be, Frisk," said Sans, his voice like an internal bellow. "You will not kill him, nor will you let me. Thus, in order to keep the most peace possible, I have to stop you from telling anyone, and kill you where you stand."

"But _why?!"_ she demanded, her voice breaking. "It makes no sense! Why would telling people about him ruin everything, Sans?! Wouldn't it make people happy to know that he's still alive?!"

"Perhaps, but you keep neglecting one person, the most important one, the one most affected by your actions - past and possible future." When she simply glared at him, trying to find words but failing, he gave words to her. "No one has bothered to ask the prince what he wants. Have you, Frisk?"

* * *

Alphys sniffed. "Are _you_ trying?" she wondered now, having only been hit once in that entire attack. He glared at her, and she already knew the answer. "No, of course you're not."

 _"You..._ you of all people... you think you have _all_ of the answers, don't you?!" he snarled, his voice slowly changing from the normal, acerbic trill, to something lower, pained and broken, gone long unused. To Alphys, the more he spoke, the more familiar it became. "But none of you get it, truly. _None_ of you. _You_ least of all!"

When she again refused to fight, Flowey attacked again, his frustration forcing him to have better accuracy this round. There were a few more hits she had to accept, but again she stood and waited, her smile never fading.

"And you?" She chuckled. "You think _I_ don't get it? You think _I_ don't understand?! _I,_ of everyone, knowing what I've _done?!_ What a dumb little posy you are."

And again, she spared him.

* * *

Frisk felt cold, but not because of the temperature. She couldn't speak - not after that. She hesitated, not wanting to stop talking, yet - but not even close to being ready for another attack. Not if it was going to be anything like that last one.

"You want to know what he really wants, Frisk? He wants to _die._ He has been trying to die ever since he awoke in the True Lab. I have tried for years to grant his wish, and once I finally found him through you, you made me promise not to kill him. I do not break my promises, Frisk, and I will always honour it, but if you insist on continuing with your plan to reveal his plight to everyone, you must be silenced. The pain is too much already." Sans paused, his eye twitching. "You cannot reveal that Asriel - as Flowey - has a soul, because though it won't kill him, it _will_ destroy him."

Frisk's vision blurred further with tears, her entire being in pain from this. _"No,"_ she whispered, but she already knew it was true.

"He was ashamed the moment he opened his eyes, Frisk. And he created his own penance. He has served it well, do you not agree? So, now that you know that, I will again give you the chance to flee, to walk away. And then, to relieve me of my promise, so that I can finally give Asriel the peace he is owed."

Frisk stared at him for a moment, the moment feeling like an eternity, when really it was only minutes. Then, without a word, with trembling limbs, she pulled herself back to her feet once more, her eyes lowered from him, now, her tears falling hot down her cheeks. Once she was standing as tall as she could possibly be, she looked up at him, meeting his gaze right on, and nodded slowly. "Thanks, Sans," she said softly.

But she spared him instead.

* * *

"You don't," Flowey snarled at Alphys. "You have _everything_! You can't lie to me; Frisk tells me everything! I know about _everything!_ I know you're happy, the happiest in the world!" He laughed at her.

Alphys nodded, not rising to the bait. "I suppose yes, I do. I do have everything. But if you think I have never felt what you're feeling before, you're stupider than you look, and know even less than you _ever_ could." She said the words sharply, harshly, her smile finally falling into a sneer. She knew exactly what it was like to feel shame, so degrading, so consuming, that all you anted to do was either hurt yourself, or die, anything, to make up for it. Oh, she knew that feeling like it was an old friend, and would always know it. _"You chose_ what we both know is the easy way. Instead of revealing yourself years ago, sparing so many people so much grief, you ran away, you hid, pretended to be someone else! But we both know who you are, don't we, _Asriel?!"_

 _"Shut up!"_ he suddenly shouted, his voice different again, only the most now than Alphys had ever heard it yet. His face suddenly fell, as did the rings of bullets surrounding him. And that voice... Alphys definitely could recognise it, now - or rather, recognise its origins.

But despite his words and tone, just like that _, he_ spared _her._

Alphys's staff vanished at once in reply, and she knelt to him, keeping careful distance, just in case. "Listen... A-Asriel-,"

 _"No,"_ he snarled, averting his face from her. "Not like _this_. I'm _Flowey."_

"S-sorry," she amended carefully. "F-Flowey... Now that I know you have your s-soul, I can go back to the lab, find a way to somehow bring your true form back, too." She paused, then swallowed hard, shutting her eyes. "B-but... I know my p-part in your agony. I-I did this to you. I-if you truly want... If you truly feel like it-it's the only way... I-I can... undo it."

Slowly, he turned his head back, his expression one that she didn't even know he could make: defeated, his posture hunched over in a low spiral. Slowly, his eyes met hers. "I... what I really want... is-,"

The shields dropped just as suddenly as they had gone up, shocking them both into silence - very briefly.

Sans had shut his eyes for the last blow, unable to watch, the one that threw her down for the final time. When he heard her fall, his hand dropped at once, as if a string had been cut, and he turned away, unable to even look, now.

Alphys was on her feet at once, her gaze first going to sans, then, when her eyes dropped, to Frisk - and that's when she screamed out. "No! No, _no!"_ She dropped to Frisk's side at once, where the human lay on her back, eyes shut and face a mask of pain, the red glow that was her soul stuttering like a flame in the wind, weakening as its host did the same.

Flowey's face was probably the worst of all. He stared at Frisk, his eyes wide and his mouth a tiny line, looking as if he wanted to scream, himself. He couldn't look away, now trembling from leaf to stalk.

Alphys grabbed one of Frisk's hands in her own, her other hand trying to grab her phone, to call for help, but her claws fumbled in her fear and panic, and she dropped it more than once. When it fell a final time, she let it and held that cold hand tight. "Frisk? Can you hear me? You need to hold on, do you hear me?!"

Frisk could, and she did try. That was obvious by the fact that her soul still fought to stay lit.

 _"sans!"_ Alphys screamed out at him, glaring at his back. "Do something! Call for help, get help, _do something!"_ When he did nothing, Alphys started to shake, panic consuming her. She reached back down for her phone, only now her claws were sticky... with blood.

"Help," Flowey suddenly whispered, his eyes wavering. "Help me... help..." He was slowly making his way to Frisk, as if in an unknowing, blind daze. "Mommy... Daddy... someone..." he whispered. "Help..."

But nobody came.

"Damn it!" Alphys snapped, turning away from sans and throwing her phone to the side. She studied Frisk, trying to see if, somehow, Alphys could find some way to carry her to safety. She even tried to pick her up - only stopping when Frisk's soul flickered dangerously low. She froze, and it stablised, but Alphys knew what that meant. If she couldn't move Frisk, and she couldn't get anyone to Frisk, then... that meant...

"No, no!" Alphys grated out, grabbing onto Frisk's hand again and rubbing it between her own, trying to squeeze warmth back into it. "If you hear me, don't go! Stay! You need to stay, Frisk! Dammit, stay determined, okay?!" She kept repeating that. _"Stay determined!"_ As if the more times she said it, the more truthful it would be.

Quite suddenly, Flowey was there, at Frisk's other side. Alphys almost attacked him, but something about his face stopped her. She did glare at him, choking out for him to get back, but he ignored her. He was still whispering, and by the time Alphys understood, it was too late.

"I have to..." he was saying, his eyes on that dying ember. _"I have to._ I'm not doing it for... I'm not going to let... _No. Not this time...!"_

sans suddenly turned back, and with obvious panic, he started back towards them. But even he couldn't get there fast enough, nor could Alphys summon anything up quick enough to stop him.

Flowey reached out, and with a bright, blinding flash, absorbed Frisk's soul.


	6. Dance

_Writer's Note: I must stress, everything, everything I write, is pure speculation and conclusion based on my own encounters, ideas, and experiences with Undertale. If I screw something up, it's me, and not the source. I do admit freely that I'm not as in-depth when it comes to my knowledge of all of the lore, but I've tried to find as much as I can to fill the gaps in - and still come up lacking. So again, I've made my own connections and conclusions during the writing of this little series - and this fic in particular - which will likely not match anyone else's (if it does I'll be so flattered). So please, trust me, and take it all with a grain of salt. I'm just a dork on the internet who loves a game probably too much. Eheh..._

 **Chapter Six: Dance**

Everything was dark, as if she had woken up to find her eyelids glued shut. But Frisk knew her eyes were open. She just didn't know where she was, and what she was even looking at.

 _Is this death?_ she wondered idly. She remembered Sans's last attack, probably the most terrifying thing she'd since that day in the Underground, with Asriel's nightmare form, created from agony and regret. Rows of bones, hundreds of them, she knew, from everywhere, patterns so narrow she always got hurt, those scratches growing the longer she left them alone... and those blasters... they had hurt the most...

She remember falling, hearing her heart beating in her ears like a rushing ocean, the sound so loud and fast it was all she really could hear - even though, from far away, she could hear voices, one she knew for sure to be Alphys - especially when she heard her shouting to stay determined.

But eventually, even she became silent, her mind filling with the sound of a dying heart. Until, suddenly, the light behind her eyelids - blood red - became white, and when she opened them, she found herself here, in this odd pocket of midnight.

 _Did I die? Am I dead? Is this what happens to humans when we die? Has my soul vanished, now? Or am I still here because I'm still alive somehow...?_

She had to figure it out. She knew she did, because otherwise, she'd be trapped here, and everything she'd done, everything she'd stood up for, would be gone in a second.

Frisk shuddered suddenly, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, feeling a deep chill, as if under her skin. Then, all at once - she didn't know how - she became aware that she wasn't alone.

Slowly, she turned around, and her eyes fell on a small monster child, his back to her. And the image suddenly shattered into a prism of tears.

"Asriel," she whispered.

Slowly, he turned around, and as he did, his body seemed to shift slowly, blurring and changing as he turned to face her... into an Asriel that he would have been, had he lived to be her brother. A taller version of himself, showing horns and longer fangs, the lines more defined, mature. When he was finally fully facing her, he no longer wore the child's striped shirt, but rather expensive-looking clothes, the kind an actual prince might wear, coloured a midnight purple and crested with the Delta Rune - almost identical to the clothes he had worn the last time he wore that form. The major difference, the one that truly mattered, was his face, his expression. The last time, his face had either been twisted into a mocking grin, a snarl of hatred, or, the worst - the face of someone in absolute, heart-breaking agony.

But his face now... it was so gentle, but also full of regret. He was almost unrecognisable, except that she had spent years staring at his child-self, and knew it was him for real. If anything, it was like seeing an old, beloved friend, after so many years of regretful separation.

Wordlessly, she crossed the distance, and without hesitation, just like those years ago, she embraced him. And like before, he hesitated, just a bit, before hugging her back, holding onto her as though for dear life, his face going to her shoulder - just like before.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice just like it had been in that horrible form - but without its hatred, its furious pain. It was his true voice, a deeper version of the voice she had spent years trying never to forget.

"I knew it," she answered back softly. She could feel that he was shaking, and she pulled him closer. She shut her eyes, letting her tears fall. _"I knew it_. You're a good liar, Asriel. I'll give you that. And a good actor."

"Frisk, I..."

"I know," she admitted. She knew the moment she saw him. "You absorbed my soul."

Asriel cringed, his hold loosening, but she kept her hold the same. "I... had to. You were... I couldn't stand it..."

"It's okay." She said it truthfully. Frisk was always practical, and this time was no exception; she knew Asriel had had no choice, and that if he did it, she must have been in a bad state, indeed. She managed a smile. "If anything, it makes things easier, doesn't it?"

Asriel didn't say anything, not at first. Frisk waited, always patient, though a part of her was actually marvelling at how well she was taking all of this. She'd been right all along - Asriel had been there - but she had also been more than right, that he hadn't soulless, and had been lying to punish himself rather than her, which was what she'd also thought. Even the fact that he'd just stolen her soul didn't make her react like she probably normally would. Rather, after having to see the other side of Sans, and forced to defend herself against him, she found the prospect almost a relief. At least this way, she could see if her theory was right, and much easier...

Finally, Asriel spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you taking this so well?"

Frisk shrugged. "Compared to Sans, this is like pie for every meal."

Asriel paused, suddenly holding her closer again. "I never asked you, Frisk... which one is your favourite?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Butterscotch or cinnamon?"

She laughed, unable to keep it in. She laughed so hard, she had to pull away, hunching over with her mirth, hands on her knees. Asriel stood with his hands up, looking both confused and also amused. He smiled a little at first, then started laughing with her, unable to help it. Frisk had one of those laughs.

When she calmed down, she found that her eyes were still full of tears, and would not stop, despite her attempts and her laughter being done. It was then that she realised she was shaking. And that's when it finally hit her at full force: she only had one shot, and she had to pay the only price she could.

But... was Sans right? She had to make sure.

Frisk stood her full height and turned to Asriel at once, and his smile faded the moment his eyes met hers. He swallowed, hard. It was like he knew what was coming, but she said it anyway.

"Why did you do it, Asriel?" she demanded, her voice quiet. "Why did you lie to me, when all I wanted was the truth to actually be the truth? Why did you lie to me for so long? Is it because of me?"

Asriel's eyes flared, and he shook his head, his teeth bared. _"No!_ Not directly! It was more like..." He bit down hard on his bottom lip, his eyes troubled. "The more time I spent with you, the more I felt I needed to lie. I... didn't deserve your time, but you kept coming back. It wasn't to hurt you, Frisk. I..." He winced, looking away. "I hate that I hurt you."

"Sans told me something while he was trying to - well, I guess he _did_ \- kill me. He said..." Frisk stared at him, making sure she missed nothing in his face. Despite everything, she still felt as if she knew him so well, already used to his changed appearance, his real voice, even his mannerisms. It was like she had always expected that from him, despite his always being Flowey. It was strange. "Sans told me you were that way because you not only wanted to hurt yourself, but you wanted someone to kill you," she blurted it out in one breath, so fast he blinked in shock, before looking instantly guilty. Her stomach hurt at once at seeing this. "So it's true, then? You don't want to come back? You don't want to be saved?"

Asriel shook his head slowly, looking as if the gesture was less of an answer and more of an attempt to clear his mind, sort his thoughts. Frisk suddenly wondered, how odd was it for him? How strange was this situation, and how would he cope?

She found out with his answer.

"Yes," Asriel admitted silently. "He was right about that. When I realised I was trapped, when all I could do was reset and reset over and over, and nothing changed when everything did..." He put a hand to his forehead, again baring his teeth in frustration. It was a gesture wholly his own; neither Asgore nor Toriel had the same habit. "I wanted to so much, and practically dared everyone to do it. But no one would. Obviously."

He then met her eyes again, and Frisk kept his gaze, though she had a hand to her stomach, still feeling that pain, that dread. "But then you fell..." He bit his lip, then added, "Then you jumped down. And suddenly, I found not only a challenge, but an equal - perhaps even a superior. You bested me and my powers and didn't even know it until I told you. That... shocked me. I wondered if you were the one who would finally kill me."

Frisk was the one biting her lip, now, trying to stay quiet, when all she wanted to do was protest, to yell, to say anything, to make him stop. She didn't realise just how painful this would be to hear.

"But then, as time went on..." Asriel hesitated. "I wasn't sure. You were so interesting and... kind... I mean, you spared _Jerry,_ and that guy has been getting on my damned nerves for _years!"_

Frisk smiled a bit at that.

"Your way intrigued me, and I wanted to learn from you, but you kept going, and you were going too fast for me to catch up, and..." Asriel looked haunted. "I panicked. A lot."

"I'll say," Frisk agreed. "And after?"

"After, I didn't feel as if I deserved to be your friend, but I didn't want to let you go. So I... made that deal with you."

Frisk stared at him for a while, before admitting, "I'm glad you did, Asriel."

"Me, too," he agreed, sounding relieved, as if he expected her to yell or react in some way. She wondered why, after all this time, he would expect a reaction other than the one she just had. Didn't he know her well enough by now? Or was his self-doubt, his self-hatred, so blinding?

Frisk could already see that she was right in his expression alone. "Well..." she said softly, reaching out and taking one of his hands between her own; it was bigger than hers, but her fingers were far more agile and slender. It was an interesting contrast. "We're here now. We need to make the best of this. And, you're obviously not alone, now."

She smiled, and Asriel smiled a little back, before looking away for a moment. She blinked, then her smile widened when she heard him sniffle, just a bit. It was what Asgore did when he wanted to hide his years, too.

"What do we do now?" Asriel wondered. "I can't reverse what I've done."

"I know, but it's okay. I have a plan. Sort of. But we need to go back with Alphys to Hotland, to the True Lab."

Asriel's hand within hers jerked a little at that, and his eyes widened. "Why there?" he wondered, his voice wavering. Clearly, the place held no love from him, and she couldn't blame him.

"Just trust me, okay? I'll explain on the way." she said instead of answering him. She knew if she did, he probably would resist, and she couldn't have that. It wasn't exactly the way she had planned things - she hadn't expected to fight Sans, after all - but she figured it was as close as she would get, and she had to talk it.

When Asriel nodded, she added, "Then let's go back."

* * *

The entire exchange, though long, had lasted only briefly during the time it took for Asriel to not only absorb Frisk's soul, but also change his shape. During this brief time, sans had not only caught up, but Alphys was also ready to attack, her face almost terrifying in its rage. The moment he was close enough, Sans's eye burst into flame, his face showing no trace of a smile now, only pure, unmatched, murderous fury.

Needless to say, when Asriel opened his eyes, he was shocked into silence, frozen where he stood by them. Which was not good, because he needed to get to Frisk, and quickly, if he wanted her plan to work - whatever it was.

 _"What have you done?!"_ Alphys shouted, her voice echoing off of the very Ruins themselves. _"And why?!"_

Asriel felt his temper flare, like it always did. One of the few things he never had to lie about was how short his fuse was; the angry outbursts were usually genuine, something he never truly learned how to control. So when questioned this way, he - unhelpfully - snapped back. "Did you _want_ Frisk to die?!"

Sans raised his hand at once, and Asriel flinched, unable to help it. Sans had always been frightening to him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, and this was even worse - especially since he knew he had earned this hatred, even more now.

"You have made your life forfeit," said Sans, his voice so menacing that even Alphys winced from it.

Asriel held his hands up. "Okay, but, Frisk... she has a plan. She says she has a plan." His eyes went to Alphys. "She says it's with you... about her soul?"

Alphys stared at him, going pale at once. "She... says?" Her eyes flicked to Frisk's still form, then back to him. "You mean..." Her eyes suddenly focussed, and her staff vanished at once. She looked up at him and nodded. "Yes. Yes. Take her. Sans," she turned to him, holding up her hands. His burning eye met hers, the face so agonised it pained her to see, though a part of her thought, _what did you expect after what you did, you idiot?_ "Back off. Let him pick her up. We need to go to Hotland."

Sans didn't lower his hand, and Asriel didn't move, though he felt panic - both his and Frisk's. When he said nothing, Alphys was the one who lost her temper. "Sans, move away. _You did this_ , and now _we_ have to clean up _your_ mess."

He started at this, staring at her in disbelief. She glared back at him, obviously afraid of him, but more afraid of losing Frisk. Wordlessly, he lowered his hand, and the fire vanished, leaving behind a very different sans behind. He was barely recognisable. In that same silence, he shifted his gaze to Asriel and just glared, before turning on his heel and walking away. When he walked past a pillar, he was gone.

Alphys was relieved, and it showed. She nodded to Asriel, though she did so reluctantly. Everything about this was almost surreal, as if a hazy dream. She was standing in the Ruins, talking to the adult incarnation of the once prince of those ruins, who was now holding the empty form of his parents's adopted child in his arms, while he also carried her soul. But Alphys wouldn't let things like details stop her from her goal. She trusted Frisk, and believed Asriel when he said she had had a plan. Alphys would help him.

Or Alphys would kill him if he failed.

Asriel was holding Frisk as gently as he could. Deep within himself, he heard her voice say, _"Ouch. I think I'm better here, for now. That looks rather painful."_ Oddly, it comforted him, the fact that she could still retain some of her wit despite their situation.

 _"You'll be back soon enough,"_ he said mentally back, finding an ease in doing so.

She was silent at this, but Alphys was talking, distracting him. "We'll have to take the ferry, it's the only way to Hotland from here," she said, starting to walk quick, gesturing for him to follow. Now that she was finally taking action, her tears had stopped - mostly.

Asriel nodded, and without another word, they went.

* * *

 _"What was it like? All of those years. Tell me, Asriel."_

Frisk's voice was very gentle, and Asriel of course replied, lulled into calmness by the sounds of the water rushing past. Alphys had actually paid the ferry person, who was surprised - until Asriel came into view. Needless to say, Alphys probably underpaid, but it explained the speed.

 _"It was..."_ How to explain years of confusion, of trying to use whatever power he had to make his life worth something, only to come up empty every time? That in his anger, he lashed out, made mistakes, restarted, only to make them again? And again? How could he put into words the pain of having to see his parents, his mother, almost every day, only to be forced, after so many times he tried the opposite, to pretend he was just another monster in the Ruins?

 _"Lonely,"_ he finally said, unable to find the right words. _"It was very lonely. Frustrating... and painful. Helpless..."_

Frisk said, very gently, _"I'm so sorry, Asriel."_

 _"You didn't do it."_

 _"No. But those feelings? I'm sorry you had to feel them alone for so long."_

He couldn't reply to that. The feeling in his heart was too great, and threatened to make him say stupid things, regrettable things. So instead, he said nothing, biting down on his bottom lip hard. It was a habit he had learned from her.

* * *

By then, sans was long gone. He was actually on the surface, walking slow, heavy steps. When he reached his goal, he walked up to the door, and knocked at Frisk's home.

He knew what he had to do.

* * *

The True Lab was dimly lit, but clean and well kept: Alphys had taken Toriel's advice and hired one of the Woshuas as well for its care. With muscle memory she had actually thought her muscles forgot, she hurriedly led Asriel into the lab, watching him sharply as he carried Frisk - but he was always gentle, never once making a misstep. She was afraid of him, but she wouldn't let him use that against her. She would stay in charge. This was her ground, and she had done this to him. Therefore, she'd fix it.

As they walked, Asriel explained Frisk's plan, sounding confused and distracted as he repeated her words aloud. "She says that she talked to you about souls before, on the way to the Ruins, about how one human soul could equal a million, do you remember?" When Alphys nodded, he continued. "She had the idea of using her soul's determination as a kind of substitute for that, a way to give me - as Flowey - the determination to return back to this form." He hesitated, suddenly realising what he just said. "She's right. It did work, didn't it?"

Alphys glared at him, hating how he looked confused, but also hopeful all of a sudden. Wasn't he the one who had just used her own insecurities against her? And now here he was, as if someone completely different?

But then, she realised, he actually was, in a way. Not only was he in his own body, but he was also Frisk, sort of; Frisk was currently a part of him. Therefore, of course some of her calm and hope would perhaps rub off on him.

"Okay," he suddenly said, as they turned a corner, and Alphys unlocked another door. "She says that she knows there's a machine used to extract DT from the souls of the humans that Fath- Asgore had taken. The souls survived that. She figures that she would be able to do the same, despite being living, but... she's not sure if it'll work now that her soul is within me."

"Neither am I," Alphys agreed. It was an interesting plan, and had things happened differently, it might have worked. Certainly the fact that Asriel was not only in the form he was in, but he also was sane and coherent, seemed to also bode well for the theory. But how could they possibly gain access to her soul's DT now?

"Wait, wait," Asriel snapped suddenly, that anger showing up again. "No, I... _wait."_ He paused, then said, "Okay. She says that there might be a way, if you explained how the machine worked to her. Is there a way to have her lie down?"

Alphys's eyes flared with understanding. "Yes. If we placed her there, but you kept physical contact, that might be enough to access her soul through you as a conduit, like the domes we used for the other souls. Is that what she means?"

Asriel was nodding. "She says that sounds like it could work." He paused. "This is strange. I hope it doesn't last. I'd rather Frisk be here."

"Me, too," Alphys admitted darkly. He heard her, but didn't said anything. Instead, he looked guilty. Alphys didn't bother addressing it, her mind already ahead of them and at the DT machine, trying to think of myriad ways to make this work.

 _If only I had more time, she thought, fury suddenly flaring and overtaking her grief. If only Sans hadn't attacked her, if only he hadn't..._

For the second time in her life, she wanted to cause him actual physical harm. That had only happened once, involving Undyne, after he'd insulted her to actual tears - and Alphys to violence. She felt that same fury, but magnified infinitely, now. _If I ever see him again,_ she thought, furiously blinking back tears, _he's as close to dead as I can get him._ She knew she could never kill Sans, even now, but she'd try. If she ever saw him again, she would try. With everything she had. She owed Frisk that much.

"Through here," she said shortly, opening the door and leading Asriel through the last hallway. His eyes were wide, bright with fear, going from place to place, visibly shaken.

 _"I can't be here, I can't be here..."_ he was thinking, the memories suddenly clear and painful in his mind.

 _"You can,"_ Frisk said suddenly, her voice gentle, full of warmth. _"You can, because you have to. And you're not alone, Asriel. Trust Alphys. I know it's hard, but she knows what she's doing. Trust her."_

 _"I trust_ you."

 _"Then trust what I say."_

He actually nodded, and suddenly he felt much calmer, his eyes suddenly getting a steely glint to them - of determination.

* * *

"sans, you're late, as usual, but maybe you can be useful for once," Undyne said as her greeting, looking irritated - and she was, because now she not only had to deal with Mettaton and property damage, but also the fact that no one knew where Alphys or Frisk were, and they weren't answering their phones. "Get in here, maybe you can..." Suddenly she took him all in, and her gut seized at once. "sans... what... what's happened? _What's happened?!"_

sans stood there, no trace of his smile on his face, now - just a pained grimace. His pinpoint eyes were dim, and he was actually shaking, trembling from skull to toe.

"sans?" Toriel's voice called, and he started, his eyes now brighter - with panic. When she appeared behind Undyne in the doorway, she was smiling, albeit a strained smile - until her eyes fell on him, and she froze. Her nostrils flared, and at once she jumped in front of Undyne, lunging forward and grabbing him by the shoulders, shocking Undyne into freezing.

"Where is she?!" Toriel shouted, the tone one Undyne - or sans - had never heard before. "Where is my daughter?! _Why can I smell her blood on you?!"_ When his eyes met hers, her hands went hot. "Where is Frisk?!" she demanded, shaking him. _"What have you done?!"_

sans hesitated, and Undyne suddenly held a spear in one hand, already glaring at him. Without any fight, or any expression, he said, "exactly what you think. i'm sorry, tori."


	7. Bells

**Chapter Seven: Bells**

The conversation that Asriel had mentioned, between Frisk and Alphys, happened earlier on, on their way to the Ruins.

"Can a human soul live after being subjected to DT extraction?" Frisk asked as they walked. They hadn't been in a hurry quite yet.

"Of course. We had six and kept using them, and they were fine."

Frisk paused, then hurriedly blurted out the rest. "Can a soul be transferred? Could you use my soul that way, to give Asriel back his real form?"

"No, not exactly," said Alphys at once. "Not and be able to give it back to you after. He's still a monster; though healthy, even just DT injection has the risk of damaging his body as it is now permanently."

"I'm not saying use my soul's DT, Alphys," Frisk broke in. "I'm saying use my _soul._ Can you give Asriel my soul in order to give him back his true form? Can that be done?"

Alphys's eyes had gone to hers at this, looking apprehensive, now. "In theory, yes. That's what all monsters can do, after all. "But, Frisk, that would-,"

But that's when they were met with a wall of spikes - and the sudden need to hurry.

* * *

Now, as Alphys's claws flew over the control panel to the DT machine, she found herself marvelling at Frisk's cleverness. Even guessing, she'd been right: giving Asriel her soul had given him back his form.

The only problem was still the same one: How could they give it back without reversing it? Was it even possible to give a human back their soul?

 _Heh..._ Alphys thought sadly. _In theory, everything can work, but in reality, I don't think I can... I've never done this kind of thing before. Is Frisk even still alive, even outside of her body? Within Asriel? It was confusing, to say the least - with the potential to be far worse._

Asriel stood in front of the machine, still holding Frisk in his arms close, as though tied to her. He stared up at the machine's terrifying visage, and felt deep fear, though he couldn't recall why. Just that the sight of it shook him deeply, and he couldn't even look away, even though he trembled from he sight of it and desperately wanted to.

However, also felt deep within, was Frisk. _"You're not alone,"_ she said gently. And he felt her comfort, her gentle insistence that he was safe, and he managed to cling to that rather than the fear.

When a metal gurney rose up from beneath the depths of the machine, Asriel started with surprise, but Alphys said, rather sharply, "Lay her there, and be gentle, and do not let go of her hand, no matter what. Understand?"

Asriel nodded and obeyed, his eyes now on Frisk's face, noticing how blank it looked, how marred it was by blood, the pallour the kind only found with...

 _No, don't think that way,_ he told himself. He instead picked up Frisk's cold left hand, and held onto it tight, twining her fingers with his, a secure hold, no matter what.

"Okay," Alphys said, sounding nervous. "Here we go. _Don't let go."_ She pressed a few buttons, and the machine roared to life, both magic and electricity surging through it and igniting it from deep within.

And Asriel held on tight.

* * *

Even when Toriel's hands burned hot enough to singe his clothes, sans stayed still, not even blinking. Instead, oddly, he closed his sockets and didn't say anything else. He didn't have to; Undyne was already yelling, and he could feel the sting of a spear-tip at his neck.

When Asgore met them all at the door, extracted sans, and brought him into the house, everyone was in the room now. It was only when Papyrus arrived, however, that he looked up - and past the others - to meet his gaze. Undyne kept her spear close, as per Asgore's instruction, and Toriel was shaking, barely containing herself. Papyrus was clearly surprised to see sans in the state he was - and the amount of chaos that came with him.

When their eyes met, Papyrus stopped, looking shocked. sans tried to speak, hating the hurt and dismay in his brother's eyes, but ever since he had spoken to Toriel, he fell mute, unable to say a word, even to defend himself.

"Your brother has some talking to do," Undyne snarled at Papyrus. "But he won't talk. Maybe you can convince him to tell us why he reeks of Frisk's blood and looks like he wants to die? Because we sure as fuck can't."

Papyrus started at that, not at the sharp language, but at what she actually said. "PLEASE TELL ME THAT I'VE MISUNDERSTOOD, BROTHER," he said slowly. His voice was so calm it was eerie; no one, not even Undyne, had heard that tone from him. "THAT IT'S NOT BLOOD, BUT KETCHUP, AND THE SMELL IS A COINCIDENCE."

Asgore answered Papyrus; sans was having trouble looking at anyone, but Asgore was one of the worst; he looked strangely small, his eyes hollow and dim. When he spoke, his voice was so soft it was almost a whisper. "Where is my daughter, sans? Please, we need to know. If she needs help, we can get it for her. But we need to know what happened, first."

Toriel looked up at Asgore, then back at sans, barely able to stand at this point, leaning against Asgore's side for support - something he was clearly also doing with her. She had smelt the blood, known it as Frisk's, and suddenly felt ancient, cold and _bereft._ But her eyes... they were scorching.

 _"Say something!"_ Undyne shouted. "Where's Frisk?! Where's Alphys?!"

"SANS." Papyrus was at his side, and placed a gloved hand on sans's shoulder. From that, finally found his strength, and was finally able to reply.

* * *

It wasn't a good event for anyone. Alphys had to watch, feeling sick, as the machine's power coursed through Frisk's body, and there was a moment in which it was so powerful she almost looked alive, her body reacting to the force of the charge. Asriel also felt that power, and he couldn't help but cry out from it. It hurt, and he felt a tugging, a pull from deep within his heart, maybe even his own soul - but he never let go of Frisk's hand, not even once.

Slowly, beside Alphys, the empty vial she had prepped began to fill, the colour a bright, gleaming red; not blood, but not anything like a liquid, either. Alphys had never been able to describe DT, despite how often she used it - and tried. It seemed to defy logic, leaning more in the realm of magic, and though she was proficient in magical knowledge and theory, it still didn't help her find a way to apply that to describing it. She probably never could.

The moment it was full, her claws flew over the panel and the machine was shut off. Asriel at once relaxed, his head lowering and his eyes closing tight. He had to catch his breath, and focussed inwards to do so, even as Alphys moved about the room quickly to finish the work.

 _"Well, that was unpleasant,"_ Frisk said dryly. He could feel her exhaustion, her voice so faint it startled him. " _Are you alright, Asriel?"_

 _"Yeah,"_ he agreed, though he felt shaky and strange. There was no doubt that the machine had successfully withdrawn DT from Frisk, as Alphys was now holding the vial up to fill a syringe. But he suddenly had an odd thought, and he burst out, "Wait, hold on!"

Alphys froze, her eyes dark with concentration when they met his. "Hurry, we don't have much time," she said tersely.

"That..." He pointed to the now-full syringe in her claws. "That's DT? Frisk's?" He eyed the red colour closely, seeing its brilliance, and oddly felt strange - nervous. He had a terrible thought.

"Yes," said Alphys. "You know that."

Asriel was staring, now, his hold on Frisk's cold hand tightening. He suddenly realised that the thought had the potential to destroy everything, but if he didn't voice it, he knew the consequences would be even worse...

 _"Right,"_ Frisk suddenly said, having picked up on his though. _"If you're right, we can't go on, and I'll have to die, for good."_

* * *

"hotland," said sans, his voice monotone. "they're both in hotland, in alphys's lab - the real one."

Toriel immediately started for the door, but Asgore stopped her, putting both hands on her shoulders and pulling her back. She felt anger surge through her, and she tried to pull away, but he held her firm. When she glared back at him, he was already looking at her closely, his eyes still hollow. "Wait, love," he said softly. She gritted her teeth and managed to say, "Our daughter needs us, Asgore." But he did not let go. Instead, he turned back to sans.

"Why are they at the True Laboratory?" he asked slowly. "And again, please, what has happened? Why... why do you...?" He couldn't say it, but it was obvious he was asking about the blood.

sans winced, even though it was only an observation, an inquiry deserving of an answer, but it was one he didn't want to give. He knew he was a coward for this, but he simple had no courage left for this - especially when his actions had backfired and destroyed everything.

sans hated been wrong, always. He had a kind of pride in his actions, knowing that everything he could do now, despite his physical limitations, had been from his own hands. But when he made mistakes - and he had made many - it felt like he was a fraud, a posturing, overblown, over-hyped fool. Now, faced with his biggest mistake of all of his lives, he found that cowardice to be a kind of shield, and he used it, unable to face the truth: that despite everything, he had just ruined it all, and all because he had miscalculated one factor far too late.

"It's probably too long a story to get into," he said.

Undyne's spear went closer, even when Papyrus protested and tried to knock it back. That hurt sans, too: the fact that his brother was, despite it all, still on his side. It should have comforted him, but all it did was remind him what a fraud he was, so clearly that he had even Papyrus fooled.

Oddly, it was that thought that brought the words to him, especially when he could see concern in Papyrus's eyes. He shut his own, unable to bear it.

"okay," he said slowly. His hands twitched, but he kept his eyes closed. In his other voice, he continued, finding the strength alone from it. "I will tell you, and then after, you may be the judges of me."

* * *

"I have determination," Asriel said, his voice small. "But it's not mine - it never was. It was... it was Chara's."

Alphys froze, her whole body going cold with those words. Her hands now shook, and she said, very carefully, "B-but you've now had it longer than she was alive, and the source of the DT injected, it can influence the host, b-but, we d-don't-,"

"But what if it does, and it's Chara's?" he broke in, pointing to the glowing material. "Would it hurt Frisk? Would it change her, influence her?"

"It... i-it..." Alphys swallowed hard. "It might. But I don't-don't know for sure-,"

 _"We can't do it, then,"_ Frisk said suddenly, though her voice was low, almost monotone. _"We can't risk Chara being able to influence me. We both know how determined she was, Asriel. It's possible she was moreso than I am."_

He shut his eyes, baring his teeth at this. _"But I'm fine. I'm fine!"_

 _"It trapped you in that shape the moment it gave you life. You can't forget that."_

 _"But you're a human! Just like her! I'm a monster! And the DT that was used to make me Flowey wasn't from her, and again, I'm fine!"_

 _"I know, Asriel, but she still is part of you. It could still be contaminated now."_

 _"Don't say it like that! There's still a chance! Why are you giving up so easi-,"_

Frisk suddenly snapped out, her mental voice so sharp he winced physically from it: _"Because I don't want to become her! I don't want to wake up and be her, or worse, at her mercy, forced under her control, like you were! Asriel, I'm afraid, okay? I'm not strong enough for this!"_

 _"So, what then?! We just let you go?"_ Asriel demanded. _"I live on, as if nothing happened, with your soul but with you gone?! That's what you want me to do?!"_

When Frisk answered, her voice was so small, it was almost more felt than heard, though he wish, once he did, that he never had. _"Yes, Asriel. That was my plan all along."_

* * *

If Papyrus hadn't stepped in, Sans knew he would be dead. He had told everything except anything revolving Asriel, though why he left that out, he wasn't sure. Instead, he stated that Frisk had had an idea about Flowey, a monster who was thought to be soulless, but who ended up apparently having the soul of another monster. When she wouldn't let him kill Flowey, he had to attack her. And yet even that altered version of the story had everyone enraged. The moment he finished, each of his friends - even Mettaton - were ready to attack him, to varying degrees of their shared grief - and now hatred.

Only Papyrus, who looked heartbroken, refused to turn on him, instead standing in front of his brother and simply saying, his voice sounding tired, "DON'T. PLEASE."

Those two words stopped them all in mid-attack, each armed in some way - even Asgore, who hadn't used it in years, was now armed with his trident. It was Papyrus's tone, Sans knew, that stopped them, as he sounded completely and utterly calm - pained, but calm. It even mystified Sans to the point that when he opened his eyes, they were normal again.

When he saw he had their attention, Papyrus went on. "I UNDERSTAND," he said, and they knew he did - he likely felt the same way. "BUT TO KILL MY BROTHER...? EVEN FRISK, AFTER WHAT HE HAS DONE, WOULDN'T KILL HIM. WE HAVE TO THINK OF FRISK, AND NOT SANS. IF FLOWEY HAS HER SOUL, WE NEED TO FIND A WAY TO GET IT BACK, TO STOP HIM, BEFORE HE DOES ANY DAMAGE WITH - OR TO - IT. YOU ALL KNOW THAT, FRIENDS. AND WE DO NEED MY BROTHER'S HELP." When no one said anything, he added, a trace dryly, "IN CASE YOU FORGOT."

"Do we?" Undyne sneered at her friend, though she wasn't angry at him. "Do we need him? He's done his part, hasn't he? Haven't you, prickless bag of bones?"

Toriel was despondent, her face drawn in grief, but her anger was stronger. Her hands burned, longing to grab sans - someone she loved, considered her brother, her dearest friend - and engulf him in those fires she barely kept banked. Asgore beside her was also weeping, but louder, the tears of someone who does not see tears as a weakness, but as strength. He was holding his trident loosely, but Toriel could feel the heat coming from him, and knew he was in the very same state as she - eager to consume him, to make him feel that same pain they now felt together.

Only Papyrus was keeping them both from exactly their judgement on his brother.

If they knew the entire story, sans knew he would be dead. Even Papyrus wouldn't be able to stop them from killing him - if they knew the full truth about Flowey, too.

* * *

 _"What?!"_ Asriel shouted it, both mentally and vocally, his eyes going wide and his free hand going hot with rage. _"What did you just say?!"_

Alphys was so startled that she almost dropped the syringe. She stared at Asriel, feeling a strange, visceral fear at the sight of him. He was, after all, a monster in possession of a human soul, and thus his power was unmatched by any other monster, especially herself. She stayed still, but saw that he wasn't yelling at her, but at Frisk, actually staring at her prone form on the gurney as he yelled. However, when his eyes suddenly filled with tears, that fear died down, just a bit.

 _"Asriel, don't cry,"_ Frisk was saying gently. _"I'm sorry I never told you the whole truth, but I knew that if I did, you wouldn't have cooperated. When Sans attacked me, I was confused, but..."_ She paused. _"It helped, didn't it? You're back, now. You can go home, live your life as your own, and... and take care of our parents, for both of us."_

 _"No,"_ he snarled back, his free hand punching a bare part of the gurney as he said it. _"No, Frisk."_

"A-Asriel," Alphys stammered, keeping her distance but also trying to seem calmer than she was, in hopes of helping him calm down. "What's wrong? What is she saying? Like I said, there's still a chance-,"

"She lied to us," Asriel interjected sharply, still glaring at Frisk. "She said just now that she knew there was a chance this would happen, and she didn't care, she had panned it, that if I came back, somehow, _magically,_ if she didn't also, everything would be _peachy. The idiot!"_ In his anger, his sarcasm shone through, sharp and bitter.

 _"I didn't say that!"_ protested Frisk. _"I just-I'm not saying I'm not important, Asriel! I'm just saying, if you weighed us side-by-side, it seems more worth it for you to go on. It's okay."_

 _"It's not okay!"_ he shouted, just as Alphys was about to say something. _"You don't get it, do you? Do you honestly think that I would go along with this? Don't you know me at all?!"_

 _"Yes,"_ said Frisk sadly. " _I do. It's why I'd hoped it wouldn't happen this way, but Sans..."_

 _"I'll kill that bastard. I will kill him."_

"I'll help, Alphys muttered, guessing correctly to whom he was referring.

 _"Then you're wasting my sacrifice, dummy,"_ Frisk snapped. _"I'd hoped that this would have happened much later."_ Her voice broke at that _. "So that Mama and Papa wouldn't have to bury me. But... I don't get to choose, do I? So if I have to die, can't something good come from it?"_ She paused, her voice growing more and more choked, the sound so painful to hear for Asriel. _"I'd wanted us to be friends for so much longer, but... it's okay. I'm glad we had what we had, Asriel."_

 _"Stop talking like that!"_

"Asriel!" Alphys had to shout it, trying to get his attention. He finally turned to her, visibly crying, now, though it was also clear that he was enraged. "Listen to me? Pl-please?"

He bit down on his lip, hard, and nodded. Frisk had gone quiet, too, though he knew she was still there; he would still sense her there.

"If it's... If it's true what she says..." Alphys covered her mouth suddenly and shut her eyes, trying to swallow down a sob, but it came out anyway, muffled but clear enough to hear. When she managed to continue, her voice had grown much softer. "If she planned this, and she intends to die, well... well..." She looked helpless for a moment, before something seemed to clear from her face. With a glint in her eye, she stood up straighter and met Asriel's gaze without flinching. "Well, _too damned bad."_

Asriel started at that. From Alphys, he'd expected - as had Frisk - that she would honour Frisk's decision to die and help her through it the best she could. That was her way; if someone needed help, she offered them her full support, regardless. It was how she was, very aware and cautious of other people's desires, and always ensuring that she did the best she could. This was,after all, the same monster who had offered Asriel his own death due to her past actions.

But when Asriel met her gaze fully, she glared, her eyes full of tears still, yes, but her face was stubborn, set and... determined, really, to defy Frisk this one request.

 _"It's okay, Alphys..."_ Frisk was saying. _"Asriel! Tell her it's okay! There's nothing we can do about it, so let's just finish this up and move on. Tell her it's okay, Asriel!"_

"No," growled Asriel, his eyes flicking briefly to Frisk's body as he said it.

"She's still protesting, is she?" Alphys said, noticing.. "Too bad, Frisk. It's just too damned bad. You're not dying today - no one is, not under my control. This is my call, and if I screw it up, I will fix it. But dying, killing you off? That's not on my list, Frisk." She smiled, her deadly smile. "You're going to be free, and fine, both of you!" Her eyes were like twin stars, they shone so bright, her smile just a trace maniacal. _"Or I will wreck this ship I built."_

Frisk was silent, clearly stunned, as was Asriel. But suddenly, deep within, he felt something he never thought he could ever feel: forgiveness, for the doctor who ruined his death - and his life after it. Even if she failed, Asriel would always hold onto that forgiveness.

"Now," she said, her voice no longer thick with tears, but strong with defiance. "Asriel, you keep holding her hand, and let's get this done."

With a racing heart, Asriel nodded.


	8. Delilah

**Chapter Eight: Bells**

Frisk was stunned by Alphys's betrayal. It felt like a betrayal, as if she and Alphys had been in this together to save Asriel, no matter what - only to suddenly be alone on this side of that problem. She wanted to protest, to explain why she was doing this, but even if she could she knew,by now, that it would go nowhere. She had known Alphys for years, had been taught by her and been her friend as well; when the doctor had that look in her eyes, _nothing_ and _no one_ would stop her.

Alphys was now holding the syringe with calm claws, her jaw set and her smile unawavering. She walked to Frisk's body and carefully pulled up the sleeve of her sweater, then cleaned the crook of her elbow carefully of blood and dirt with a small gauze pad.

Frisk suddenly felt panicked. _"Asriel, please,"_ she pleaded. She was terrified. _"Please let go of my hand. Let go. Let me go."_ She knew, deep down in her instincts, that if he did, she would truly die, and her soul - however it would be - would either become his, or become nothing but vapour. She wanted to live, but the idea of suddenly waking up as someone else... it was too much. She was too scared, and would rather pick death.

Asriel bared his teeth and rubbed his forehead, but said nothing. Instead, he grabbed her hand and held it tighter, holding it now between the two of his.

 _"Asriel, stop! What if I wake up as Chara? What will you do then? What if she tries to take..."_ She trailed off, and suddenly her voice sounded odd. _"Control of you. Asriel... let go of my hand."_

He felt a chill go up his spin, and his eyes met Alphys's at once, stopping her. "No," he said aloud carefully. "I won't let go of your hand, Frisk." He paused. "So stop threatening me."

Alphys's eyes narrowed. "Does she know that the gurney she is currently lying on has restraints?" she wondered, her voice as sharp as her smile. "And that I know how to ensure one can't move if I don't choose them to?"

Frisk was silent, and her thought vanished almost as soon as it came, leaving her feeling nauseated and disgusted with herself. The sudden realisation of what she had actually considered hit her, then, and she felt like scum. _"Asriel..."_ she murmured.

"I'm not letting go," he answered aloud again.

 _"Okay. And I'm not... I won't..."_

 _"No,"_ he said mentally, now. _"You won't. But you thought about it. And you're not even injected yet."_

That hurt, and at first it felt like more than she deserved - until she actually thought about it. Then she thought that maybe he was being kind. He could have said much worse. _"Asriel... I'm so sorry..."_ she said honestly.

 _"I know,"_ he answered, a trace gentler. _"You're scared, I get it. But if you can't trust me, trust Alphys, will you?"_

 _"I trust you,"_ she admitted.

He was silent for a moment, surprised. That was the last thing he had expected to hear. _"How? I've lied to you, attcked you, tried to kill you... I stole your soul!"_

Frisk laughed suddenly. _"Everyone's tried to kill me, Asriel. I now consider it the only way to make true friends."_

"Asriel," Alphys said, breaking the silence. "Do I need the restraints?"

 _"No,"_ Frisk said honestly.

"No," he echoed. "She says she trusts me. Us. You and I." He stumbled over the words, unable to form them too well. He was confused. _"You're crazy, Frisk,"_ he concluded finally. _"But we still need you here."_

Frisk was silent, for almost too long, until she finally said, _"Okay. I'm ready to try."_

Asriel again met Alphys's gaze and nodded. Wordlessly, Alphys leaned over Frisk and injected the needed, then pushed the plunger down The bright, almost shimmering substance vanished into her arm, and was gone.

* * *

 _It hurt._

That was Frisk's first thought. She watched the needle go in through Asriel, and for a moment, it was if nothing happened. Alphys put the syringe aside and placed two fingers to Frisk's throat, her eyes on the watch on her other wrist, waiting.

Then, as if Alphys had changed a channel on the TV of her life, everything went blank, and everything hurt.

"Asriel?" she called, wondering if the darkness meant another meeting of his soul. She couldn't move or see herself in this darkness, and the pain was new, but she still had to try. "Asriel?!"

But no one answered.

Frisk couldn't move, couldn't even tell if she had anything to move. Asriel was not there, she couldn't even feel him anymore. She could only feel pain, and now fear.

 _No._

Was she dead? Or had it happened, and she was in a prison in her own mind, doomed to stay, while Chara ruled her body in her place?

"Asriel!" she called again. Then, when she began to call him again, something else came out instead. "Mama-Tori? Papa-Gorey? Anyone?! Someone?!"

But nobody came.

* * *

 _It hurt._

Asriel felt her absence as if physically cut, the sudden emptiness and loneliness he had managed to ignore this whole time taking her place. He lowered his head and shut his eyes tight, gritting his teeth in order to keep calm. He was afraid, not only of losing her, but also himself.

The longer time went, he realised he was safe. Somehow, something had connected within him through Frisk, as if she were the glue added to a severed wire. He felt whole physically, no longer teetering on the edge of insanity, no longer imprisoned in that body that was never truly his.

"She... she's gone," he managed to say softly.

Alphys had watched him, keeping half of her attention on Frisk, the rest on him. She'd seen him suddenly cower with fear, and knew that what he said was the truth. The fact that he was also still himself was a good thing, too (she'd feared that she would have found some way to inject him again, or that nothing she could do would matter, and he was stuck.) However, as the minutes stretched on, he stayed the same, they both knew that that part of the plan had worked. Thankfully.

Asriel lowered his gaze to Frisk, searching her face for any sign that she was there. But nothing changed, not even her expression, and the longer they waited, the more their shared fear increased.

"She's... Doctor, she's not.." Asriel looked up at Alphys, and she was staring back, her smile gone, now, replaced by bemused fear. "She's not breathing."

"I know," she said carefully, feeling a lump form in her throat and swallowing hard to try and dislodge it. "I don't understand it. She should at least have a pulse by now."

Asriel stared at her. "Meaning what?"

Alphys stared back, her mouth going dry, her eyes wide. Her hands began to shake, and she said, barely able to, "Meaning... I-I... I've failed."

* * *

Frisk still couldn't move, still couldn't feel. She tried, but kept feeling a wall of pain in response, not going away, no matter how hard she tried - and she tried hard. All she could do was try to call out for help, for Asriel or Toriel or Asgore, anyone, hoping that someone could hear her. She felt trapped and feared that the longer she stayed in this darkness, the more it meant she was imprisoned. She was horrified to think about what would happen to Alphys and Asriel...

She started screaming, her panic forcing her to. She lost her calm with each call that went unanswered. No matter how loud she tried, how many times, she still got no answer.

Nobody came.

* * *

"You... what?" Asriel echoed. "You failed?"

Alphys pulled her hand away slowly, and he watched her move so sharply it was like being cut. "It's... been too long," she murmured, her eyes filling. "The-the others, th-they had opened their eyes b-by now..."

Asriel stared at her. He felt as if she had just force-fed him solid lead, his gut felt so heavy and pained. Seeing her tears, he knew that she was being honest. He knew she wouldn't exaggerate something like this.

"Sh-she..." Alphys was whispering, her hands to her chest, unable to look at him now. "I-I-I'm s-sorry..."

Asriel felt cold at that, not a common feeling for a monster who knew a bit of fire magic. But then this cold was not physical; rather, it was the horror of realising that, just like that, the one they loved was gone, had slipped through - and was never coming back.

Dead.

He shook his head suddenly, so sharply his neck hurt. He bared his teeth at her, then looked down at Frisk, searching for some kind of sign, anything, no matter how small...

Nothing. Just the sound of Alphys's tears.

"Frisk," he muttered out between his teeth. He felt anger, yes, but also deep, undeniable grief. "You can't go. I... I just got here. We're supposed to be..." He shook his head again. _"Frisk!"_ He shouted it, clutching her hand to his chest, over his heart. "Frisk! Damn you, you idiot, _wake up!"_

"Asriel..." Alphys tried softly, but he glared at her, his tears running free and burning down his cheeks. She flinched, taking a step back, and he looked back at Frisk. He refused to it as her body, and not her.

"Frisk!" he shouted again, his voice breaking. "Can you hear me? Are you too stupid to hear?! _Frisk!"_

* * *

Something suddenly changed. Frisk didn't know what, but it felt different. The darkness didn't change, but the way it felt suddenly did. She tried to grasp onto what it was, but couldn't comprehend it.

Until she heard his call.

"Asriel," she whispered. He was calling for her. With each shout, the sound got louder, the pain still great, but almost easier to bear alongside his voice. She could soon not just hear her name, but the words that went with it.

Suddenly, she felt as if two small hands gave her a great shove forward from the small of her back. She felt as if she were stumbling, falling into that wall of pain, then falling through it...

She held onto his call, calling back, responding to everything he was saying.

And then, she was greeted by something that both hurt and healed.

Light.

* * *

Frisk's eyes snapped open, a second before she gasped, the sound so loud it scared both Alphys and Asriel. She coughed, trying to breathe again, blinded by the ceiling lights and thinking of breathing, desperate for her. Against Asriel's chest, her hand twitched, then grasped his clothes tight.

Alphys jolted back to herself the moment Frisk began to cough, going instantly on autopilot mode. She scrambled back to the work desk and pulled open a few drawers before she found what she needed. She rushed back with another syringe and a small bottle, and she filled the needle with sure hands as she went ot Frisk's side. She injected it into Frisk's arm at once, and Frisk felt it with another gasp, shutting her eyes tight. Her whole body went hot, and it was if she had been encased in fire, it was so sudden. It didn't take away the pain, but it distracted her from it, and she knew from that what it was: adrenaline.

Immediately, when she was able to stop coughing and just breathe normally, Asriel had her in his arms, holding her so close she could hear his heartbeat, its racing pace soothing to her oddly. It was racing, as if he'd been the one given adrenaline, and his whole body shook. She tried to hug him back, desperate to, but her arms wouldn't comply; only her hands seemed to work. One of her hands was still clutching the front of his robes, so she focussed on that, trying to find a way to ground herself, everything confusing and intense.

"I... heard you... your call," she managed finally, her voice so tiny she barely recognised it, herself. "I heard you calling for me, Asriel..."

Asriel shut his eyes, holding her closer. He couldn't speak already, but her words seemed to steal anything he could possibly say. She kept repeating it, unable to say anything else, and he just listened, relieved to be hearing her breathe, let alone talking..

During this time, Alphys wasn't idle. After she had given Frisk the dose of adrenaline, she moved around Asriel in order to check her vitals and make sure that she was at least stable. She would do as much as she could within her own skills, but she knew that it was likely Frisk either needed Toriel's healing or a hospital.

But she was alive. Frisk was alive. And Asriel was, too.

"Frisk," Asriel was saying, now, his voice soft and his eyes shut. She nodded, and he said it again, and again, until he broke down and sobbed. Finally, she managed to raise her free arm to grasp at his back, as tight as she could. It seemed to make him cry harder, until Frisk realised that the increase was with laughter, mingled with those tears. She smiled and shut her eyes, loving the sound, feeling it come from deep within his chest, and she held onto that sound like she held onto him.

And that was precisely the moment Toriel, Asgore and Undyne reached their room and found them.

* * *

Toriel and Asgore had followed Undyne down the halls, her red hair a beacon as she darted around, trying to find the right way, as the only one of the three who knew the lab best.

"Wait," Asgore suddenly said, holding up a hand to stop Undyne in mid-stride. His ears twitched, and suddenly he sneezed. Toriel looked up at him in surprised; he was turned in the direction they had just come from, his nose now, twitching, too. "Tori..." he said her name in such a strange tone, one she couldn't name. "That... scent...?"

Toriel shook her head. "Asgore, we need to..." But the look in his eyes stopped her at once: he looked haunted. She stopped, searching his face, before taking in a deep breath - and then she smelt it, too.

"Uh, guys, we need to-hey!" Undyne broke in, sounding uncomfortable at first, then annoyed, looking as if she wanted to either punch or hug them. Likely both.

"It's this way," Asgore interrupted, grabbing Toriel's hand, which was already reaching for his. Together, they turned back and ran past her in the opposite direction, before making a sharp detour. Undyne was surprised by how well and fast they both could move if they wanted to, but she still ran after them, managing to keep up.

"Can't be," Asgore was muttering. Toriel agreed; it was impossible, but they could both still smell it, and it was not just the scent of Frisk this time. It was something else, some _one_ else.

"Here, Gorey!" Toriel suddenly cried out, pulling him back the other way, back to a door they had almost passed. He turned with her, and they both rushed into the room, allowing hope to permeate their hearts like young fools...

...only to be rewarded not once, but twice.

* * *

At first, neither Asriel nor Frisk noticed the company. There was truly nothing beyond the two of the,. Despite how different he looked and felt, Frisk didn't feel as if Asriel was a stranger. Rather, she felt she'd been waiting an eternal amount of time to get to this point, to finally be able to embrace him, instead of just patting him on the head. For Asriel, it was exactly what he had yearned to do for eight years. For him, it felt as if everything was finally in place, and all he had had to go through was finally paid off.

It was only when they heard Alphys speak that they managed to remember that others did, in fact, exist.

"Undyne, Undyne, I'm fine! I'm fine!" she was trying to say, but kept getting interrupted by Undyne either hugging her or kissing her, her worry and relief so obvious it made Alphys tear up. Finally, she just gave up, and Undyne pulled her close, hugging her tight, which Alphys returned with a smile.

"Asriel...?"

Both Frisk and Asriel started at that, the voice familiar to both of them. Asriel's eyes widened and Frisk could feel him start to tremble. His hold loosened a bit, then tightened, and she winced but stayed close, feeling oddly alert despite the situation. Her eyes shifted over, and she saw both Toriel and Asgore staring at them both, their expressions identical: shocked, hopeful confusion.

"Mama... Papa..." Frisk murmured, trying to smile again, feeling relief flood her at the sight of them, and comfort.

Asriel's eyes slowly met theirs, feeling them burn, his whole body burn, really. For a staggering moment, that hot fear filled him, terrified of them all of a sudden. He felt Frisk's hand on his back flatten out and rub gently with a shaking hand. She knew he was afraid.

"Oh..." Toriel's hands were at her mouth, her eyes so wide they seemed to take up her whole face. Asgore was also in tears, but he also wore the widest grin on his face through them.

"M-Mom..." Asriel stammered, his shakes clearly visibly now. "D-Dad... I can... explain..."

Toriel lunged for him and was embracing him before he could finish. She held him to her, also pulling Frisk close, and she buried his face into the top of his head - now just her height - just like she did when he was barely to her knees. His scent - so real now, not just an idea in the air - washed over her, and between her sobs she laughed, her laugh the happiest anyone had ever heard her make. She didn't care how it happened, or even why. All she cared about was the fact that, somehow, not only was Frisk safe - she lowered her face at one point to Frisk's head, just to be sure - but so was her long-dead son.

"Uh, Asgore...?" Undyne was saying, her voice careful. "Is that...?" She turned to Alphys, who was already beaming, in tears but also happy about it. "What did you do, dear wife?" she added.

"Is it him, Tori?" Asgore asked softly. When, in response, she waved her hand to him, he went to her side at once, embracing _her_. It was truly a hug-pile of Dreemurrs.

"I'm so sorry," Asriel was sobbing, confused by their reception but also so incredibly relieved. "I'm so sorry..."

But his mother and father merely held him - and their daughter - closer, and he couldn't help it. He wailed, then, years of grief, of lies and hatred, of loneliness and pain, only properly conveyed in that one long, drawn out keen.

Frisk heard it, and she shut her eyes, feeling both deeply sad - but incredibly happy, too.


	9. Epilogue: Chains

**Epilogue: Chains**

Toriel did the best she could, but Sans used both magical and physical attacks on Frisk, so she did end up having to go to the hospital - they chose an integrated one, just to be safe - and they even had Asriel be admitted as well, just in case (he was checked over and pronounced healthy, and was immediately discharged).

The first person that Frisk saw when waking up alone in her section of the room was not her parents, nor even Alphys. No, it was sans. She had opened her eyes after what felt long an incredibly long sleep to find him sitting in one of the chairs, flipping through the joke book he had pilfered from Home. The moment her eyes opened, he looked up, closing the book at once.

Frisk couldn't put a name to how he looked. She wanted to say ashamed, or sorry, but there was more to it than that, and she couldn't place it. Not with so fuzzy a mind after such a long sleep and IV pain medication.

For a moment, they stared at each other, Frisk at first feeling a wave of fear, not at all her usual reaction to seeing sans. But she remembered with a sudden chill the way he had looked the last time she had seen him, and couldn't help it.

sans was smiling again, though it was obviously strained, especially when he saw her reaction. "heya, kiddo," he said carefully.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice still scratchy. She clutched at the thin bedsheet tightly. Her heart raced, her memory not helping matters.

"you're scared of me," he observed. When she bit on her lip, he looked away. "i can understand that. i guess if i were you, i would be afraid of me, too."

A bubble of anger burst within her chest, and she snapped out, "Well, maybe because you practically killed me, sans."

He nodded slowly, the smile flickering a bit. "true. i did. i'm glad i failed, though. probably the first time i've ever been glad of failing."

"Can't say I disagree with you there," she muttered.

There was a pause at that, sans looking down at the book in his hands. After a moment, he said, not looking up, "can you ever forgive me, frisk?"

"Well, let's see. You lied to me about Flowey being Chara. You lied to me about Flowey having a soul. You then killed me and ran away..." She pretended to consider it. "Gee, I dunno, sans, can I?"

He winced. "yeah, i deserved that, for sure," he agreed. "but my only explanation is that i screwed up. it happens."

"Even for _you?"_ she wondered, her voice as cold as Snowdin. "You the infallible sans? The one who knows everything at all times?"

sans shook his head. "i only wish that were true. the fact is, i'm actually kind of shit at that. i think it's obvious by the fact that my actions directly led you to lose your soul, anyway."

For whatever reason, she laughed at that. It was a small laugh, sounding more like a cough, but he knew it for what it was. "Well, at least you have hindsight, don't you?"

"maybe it's _all_ i have," he replied, his smile a little more real now. "not a bad thing. i just have to try to think harder, i guess."

"Or at all?"

sans winced again. "wow, frisk, you're on a tear, aren't you?"

Frisk narrowed her eyes. _"You_ try being killed by someone you love and get back to me on how you feel about them after."

"you'd be surprised," he muttered darkly, confusing her. "i seem to recall being on the wrong end of alphys's fist one time."

"Oh, it was a slap, and don't be such a baby," she sighed. He had never let that go, ever. "And you deserved that, too. Implying that Undyne was a user. Golly, sans, how _do_ you have us around you, still?"

He stared at her, then laughed, a genuine, loud laugh that surprised her. "i dunno," he admitted. "but i'm a damned lucky bastard for it."

She eyed him for a moment. "How did Papyrus take all of this?" she wondered. "Not well?"

"oddly well," he corrected. "he defended me in front of everyone. then, the moment they went to find you, he lectured me for an hour on how to be a proper friend and a decent skeleton." He grinned. "Isn't he amazing? I learned a lot, i have to say."

Frisk laughed softly again, imagining it all too well. "He _is_ amazing. You'd do better if you actually bothered to listen."

"i _did_ listen. it's why i'm here."

Frisk raised her eyebrows. "And why are you here?"

"to beg forgiveness, of course."

"And do my parents know you're here?"

"i'm still alive, aren't i? so obviously not."

She sighed, leaning back in the bed and rolling her eyes. "sans..."

"i'm serious, frisk," he said suddenly, his voice sounding the most serious she'd ever heard it - even moreso than when he had fought her. "i'm here to beg you to forgive me."

"Why does it matter so much to you?" she snapped, angry all of a sudden. _"You're_ the one that tried to kill me. _You're_ the one who said I had to die. _You're_ the one who still fought me when I refused, who still watched my soul be stolen, and did nothing. Clearly I mean little to you. You had me fooled. So why _do_ you care so much?"

sans had stayed quiet the whole time, growing more and more hunched over the longer she spoke. By the time she was done, his head was in his hands. "you asked me once," he said now, his voice barely above a whisper. "if i was in love with your mother."

She stared at him. "Are you _kidding me?"_ she cried. "You're only here to make good with my _mother?!"_

His head jerked up, looking shocked. "no! of course not! i want to make it up to her, yes, and i imagine i'll spend my whole life doing so, but..."

"But?" she pressed sharply, when he wouldn't continue.

"i'm here to apologise, frisk. do you think, someday, you'll ever be able to forgive me?" he answered, his eyes searching hers, looking almost desperate.

Frisk glared at him, wishing she could yell that she would always hate him, that she wished he were dead, that she wished he would disappear. But they would be lies; the truth was that she didn't want sans out of her life. She loved sans, he was like a beloved older brother to her - better, because he was independent of parents, and had the tendency to try and corrupt her. She had shared so much with him, laughed so much with him, even cried. She couldn't just discard him. But she couldn't completely just forgive him, either. She still felt that fear of him, and though she fought against it, it persisted. She wondered if she would ever be able to fully trust him again.

"I..." she said softly, looking down at her hands. "sans, I really, _really_ want to forgive you. But... I'm going to need some time, okay?"

sans nodded slowly. He did look disappointed, but he also seemed to understand. "that's much more than i expected, frisk. hell, it's phenomenally more than i likely deserve. so i'll take it."

he stood up and held out his left hand to her. (She once asked him why he used his left hand, instead of the traditional right, and he admitted that he knew she was left-handed, and had wanted it to be easier for her.) "i'm truly, truly sorry, frisk," he said the moment she took it with her own. "i look forward to the day that you forgive me. until then, i'll keep trying."

Frisk bit her lip, squeezing his hand, the bony fingers cold and sharp, but familiar. "Thank you, sans."

He let go and nodded. With a slow wink, he turned and walked back towards the other side of the room, where another person rested. Once he reached the curtain, he vanished. She leaned back and shut her eyes, her hand to her chest, over her racing heart.

She looked forward to it, too.

* * *

As they waited for Frisk to wake up, Asriel told his parents everything. The three were alone in the waiting room - Undyne and Alphys had gone home for now, planning to return first thing in the morning to see Frisk, as by now it was very late into the night. Asriel held his head in his hands, his eyes shut, as his parents, flanking him, listened. By the time he had finished, he was ashamed again, deeply afraid of their reaction.

So when Toriel hugged him to her side, and Asgore placed a hand atop his head, he opened his eyes and stared, first at her, then at him. _"Why...?_ Why are you being so... nice to me?" he wondered, bewildered, especially when Toriel smiled at him through her tears. "I've... done unspeakable things..."

"Yes," Asgore agreed, his voice thick. "And you spend eight long years atoning for it."

"It's not enough," he snapped, frustrated and not knowing why. "I was a coward, a liar. Conniving and vindictive. Eight years is nothing."

"Are you sorry, Asriel?" Toriel said, her voice carefully calm.

His face fell instantly, and he looked down at his feet. "Yes," he whispered. "So much."

"Then we don't care," she concluded, her voice a little sharp. "Asriel, my dear," she hugged him again, and he rested his head on her shoulder, unable to help it. "You have no idea how miraculous this is for us."

"Golly, I'll say," Asgore agreed, brushing away his tears and smiling. "I thought it was supposed to be Frisk's special day, but then we get the biggest, best present of all."

Toriel and Asriel stared at him, wearing identical expressions of dismay. "Gorey, ugh," Toriel said, wrinkling her nose. "That was much too corny."

"Then I'm cornbread," he replied cheerfully. "It's how I feel."

Asriel smiled at him, but Toriel sighed. "Well, your sentiment is correct, if your syntax is not." She placed a hand to Asriel's cheek and pulled his face up to look closer at him. "It's almost like a dream," she admitted. "The sweetest dream that I've ever had - because both of my babies are safe, despite all odds."

Asriel stared at her, still confused, but the way she looked at him, the way she kept smiling at him and searching his eyes, it made him feel... better. Somehow, he felt as if... this was almost _normal._

"Me too," he admitted softly, and Toriel gently rubbed his cheek. Asgore squeezed Asriel's hand, nodding. "Mom, Dad, I'm... I... can I..." he hesitated. "Can I... come home?"

Asgore and Toriel exchanged glances of disbelief. "Asriel, why would you even ask that?" Asgore wondered. "Of course you can!"

"I wish you had, sooner," Toriel admitted. "I'm sad we missed so many years."

"Are you the- oh, of course you are!" They looked up and saw Frisk's doctor standing close to them, wearing a cautious smile. Immediately, Asgore stood up, though for whatever reason, Asriel shrank back closer to Toriel, averting his gaze. He was too afraid of the judgement from others at the sight of him, but he needn't of worried. "Your daughter, Frisk?" When Asgore nodded, the doctor went on, looking at his notes. "She's awake, now. We checked her vitals, and she's doing fine. The magical damage should be gone by tomorrow night at the latest, but the physical damage will linger for much longer. She will scar, but not badly, and we should probably keep her here for a day or two, just to be safe."

"Can we... see her?" Asriel spoke up softly.

The doctor smiled. "She's been asking for all of you, practically nagging the nurses to get you. I decided to go in their place. It would be doing us a favour if you visited for a bit, but I don't recommend staying the whole night; she needs more rest. Does an hour sound good?"

When the three of them nodded, the doctor said, "Follow me, then, please."

Asgore immediately did so, but Asriel hesitated, and as a result, so did Toriel. "Asriel," she said gently, looking closely into his face. She still couldn't believe she was able to do so. She had thought she was dreaming, until she picked up one of the waiting room magazines and read it. When she could understand it, she knew for sure she was awake.

"Mom," Asriel was saying, his eyes searching hers, now. He looked scared. "Do you think... Frisk is angry with me?"

Toriel smiled kindly. "Of course not. I think she's going to finally be happy, truly happy, now."

Asriel bit down on his lip, hard, but he still sniffled a bit. "Should I... come with you?" he wondered, and when she nodded, he swallowed. "Okay."

Together, they stood, following Asgore at a slower pace, Toriel's arm around her son's shoulders.

* * *

"Papa-Gorey!" Frisk exclaimed, sitting up to reach for him and wincing a bit, but still he hugged her close, and she hugged back, grinning so wide it hurt. "Papa, I'm so glad to see you..."

Asgore held her closer, shutting his eyes. He couldn't speak, too choked up. He hated how small and sick she looked, but he could also see real happiness within her eyes. "I'm glad to see you too, Frisk," he murmured finally. When he felt Toriel's hand on his shoulder, he drew back reluctantly, in order to give her his place.

Toriel also hugged Frisk tightly, and Frisk tried to hug just as hard, but found she was still too tired for it. "Mama-Tori..." she whispered.

"My dear child," she answered softly. "You've truly outdone yourself, today."

"Well... it _is_ my birthday. Might as well make it memorable."

Toriel smiled, giving Frisk a gentle pet of her hair briefly before she backed away, allowing room for Asriel - who looked ready to sob.

"Asriel," Frisk said, her smile bright, her eyes wavering at the sight of him. She held out her arms, and he immediately fell into them, clutching her close, like he had when she heard him calling for her. He was trembling, his face buried into her shoulder as he cried, and she held him close, gently rubbing his back and whispering that it was okay. When he shook his head, she repeated it sharper, and he opened his eyes, pulling away to look at her. She meant it, which meant he needed to hug her again - and he did.

Toriel suddenly put a hand to her mouth, her eyes flaring in shock. Asgore noticed and met her gaze, and she stared back at him, looking amazed. She flicked her gaze to Asriel, then to Frisk, then back to him. Asgore looked confused for a moment, shaking his head - before suddenly his eyes went wide and he grabbed her other hand tight, searching her face to see if she was joking with him. She was not.

Frisk said gently, "I'm okay, Asriel. I promise."

Asriel nodded, his fingers digging into her back a little, as if doing so would make sure she didn't suddenly disappear. "You have no idea how happy this makes me," he whispered, his voice broken. "Everything... my parents, my life... you... I can never repay you."

"I don't recall asking you to," she replied, smiling.

"Frisk," he murmured. "I..."

Toriel suddenly broke in. "Frisk, are they treating you well?" she wondered. Asriel pulled away from Frisk slowly, and both looked a little disappointed at this.

"Yeah," Frisk nodded. Asriel sat down on the edge of her cot, while Toriel and Asgore pulled up chairs to sit with them. Frisk still held Asriel's hand, their fingers laced together. "But they're so slow! I was asking for you for practically an hour!"

"Oh, you were not," Toriel teased softly. "They told us how much of a henpecker you were. You're just spoilt."

Frisk giggled a little. "Maybe," she agreed. "But only because I was raised that way."

"Aw, golly, Frisk," Asgore said in protest. "You make us sound like pushovers."

Asriel snorted suddenly, unable to help it. He was laughing silently, his whole body shaking with his mirth. "You _are!"_ he choked out, lowering his head and laughing again, sometimes making sound, but more often just shaking silently.

Both Toriel and Asgore exchanged happy glances, remembering that so well. "Well," Toriel shrugged. "Maybe we have wonderful children, then."

"Ah, Mama..." Frisk blushed. Asriel rolled his eyes, still grinning, but Frisk was touched none the less.

For a moment, no one said anything, each of them looking at each other carefully, all sharing the same amazement at the situation they were now in.

"Mama, Papa," Frisk said suddenly, her voice serious. "Does this mean... are you...?"

"Are we what, dear?" Toriel pressed.

Asriel met Frisk's gaze, able to tell she was saddened by something. Eight years of pseudo-friendship had taught him much about her, and he found her emotions sometimes hard to read. But now, she was as open as a book, and it was both painful to see but also rather endearing.

"She wants to ask if you're going to start ageing again," Asriel said softly. Her eyes met his, and she nodded slowly, her eyes filling.

Asgore nodded. "Yes," he admitted.

Frisk shut her eyes, her hand clutching Asriel's tightly. "I had hoped... I wanted this to happen... long before you were both gone," she explained, her voice wavering. "I was... going to ask you before I died."

Toriel was shocked, but Asgore was angry. "Why would you do such a thing?" he demanded. "Why would you even _think_ about doing it?"

"Truly, Frisk," Toriel added. "I don't think we would have been able to. We don't have the same brand of hope you do, dear. We're old and stuck in our ways; for us, we could never do that."

Frisk nodded. "Then I'm glad this has happened, even though I... I'll have to bury you."

"You don't know that," Asriel broke in. "What if you get killed doing something remarkably stupid? Like, say, fighting sans?"

Frisk blushed, and the tense air immediately dissipated. "I didn't mean to," she protested.

"Yes, about sans..." Toriel said slowly. "I would very much like to give him a dose of his own medicine."

"Tori..." Asgore sighed. "We talked about this."

"I know, but it doesn't mean my feelings have changed."

"Get in line, Mom," Asriel said. "I plan on killing him. You can kill him again when I'm done."

"No one is killing sans!" Frisk suddenly snapped out. "He doesn't deserve to die, and we all know it!"

"I don't know," Asgore answered. "I think anyone who hurt my daughter the way he did you is means for a death sentence."

"Papa," Frisk said. "You just said to Mama..." She sighed. "It's not. Just... give him time. He'll make amends. I think."

Asriel snorted again. "That bastard doesn't know _how."_

"Language, Asriel," Toriel chastised, and he blushed, forgetting about that. Asriel had become a bit of a smart-mouth (okay a great deal of one) during his bitter times as Flowey, and tended to let curse words slip out without thinking. He hadn't been corrected by anyone in so long, it was habitual, now.

"Haha," Frisk teased him. "You're in _trouble."_

"No teasing, Frisk," Asgore immediately replied, and Asriel grinned at her. Frisk laughed again, unable to help it. It all felt so nice, being able to talk this way, to be able to see her parents and, now, her brother, finally find each other. The happiness was so strong that she was still smiling, so much that it was contagious.

"Asriel," Frisk said now. "Are you going to live with us?"

He looked over at his parents, who were staring at him as if he had just told a dirty joke. "Uh..."

"Yes, of course you are," Toriel said sharply. "We would never, ever think otherwise! You're our son, Asriel, and always have been. Nothing has changed that. You belong with us."

"Well," Asgore added, clearing his throat. "Unless you don't want to."

Asriel shook his head at once. "I want nothing else!" he protested.

"Then you're already home," Toriel said gently.

Frisk squeezed his hand again, beaming at him. Her eyes, however, were drooping, clearly feeling her exhaustion catch up with her.

"Oh, dear," Toriel said, having noticed. "Frisk, I'm sorry. We should let you rest now."

"No, no," Frisk replied. "Stay, I want you to. I want you to stay with me, talk to me, talk to Asriel. I want... you guys to be a family again."

"We are, because of you," Asriel said softly, his eyes on hers. She smiled at him gently, her eyes wavering warmly, and he couldn't help smiling back, feeling his heart race. "And you're also a part of that family."

Frisk shut her eyes, her tears running down her cheeks, stinging a few of the cuts that remained. "That's all I've ever wanted," she admitted sadly, though she was still smiling.

Unable to help it, Asriel pulled her into a hug again, this time the one to comfort her, to rub her back and tell her it was okay. Again, that look passed between Toriel and Asgore, and Toriel took Asgore's hand.

By the time Asriel had let go, she was already half-asleep. She lay back down, gazing at her family, unable to help it. She was so happy. She had done everything she had ever wanted - and now could actually live to see the results.

"I'm so glad," she whispered, before she closed her eyes and drifted off. Asriel let go of her hand reluctantly, searching her sleeping face and happy to see it was a normal, healing sleep.

Gently, Toriel placed her hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at his mother, who was now standing along with Asgore. "We should go now," she said gently. Asriel nodded, and his two parents filed out, expecting him to follow.

Asriel did, but not before he hesitated. Before he lost his nerve, he leaned down and kissed Frisk gently on her forehead. She sighed in her sleep, relaxing a bit better, and he smiled, brushing the back of his hand on her cheek, before he followed his parents, hurrying to catch up.

* * *

A few weeks after Frisk's recovery, if one looked at the bookshelf in the living room, there would be a new picture to be found. In it stood four people, three monsters and one human, the Dreemurrs. Toriel stood behind Frisk, her hands on her daughter's shoulders, while Asgore stood behind Asriel in the same way. All four wore identical crowns of yellow flowers on their heads. Toriel was smiling so brightly her eyes were crescents, and Asgore was grinning in a silly way, unable to help it. Frisk held Asriel's hand in hers and was looking at him with a wide smile, while Asriel looked back at her, his smile so wonderful it was a treasure to see.

 **THE END**


End file.
